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Poem by Thomas Urquhart


Epigrams. The First Booke. 8. What man it is, that is truly wealthie


Who measures poverty by Natures rules, 
	And frames his mind to what he hath, is rich; 
For we can never doe, but vexe our soules, 
	So longs we straine them to a higher pitch: 
And hee, whose heart is discontented, is 
But a poore wretch, though all the world were his.



Thomas Urquhart


Thomas Urquhart's other poems:
  1. Epigrams. The First Booke. 33. The onely true progresse to a blessed life
  2. Epigrams. The Second Booke. 42. The deserved mutability in the condition of too ambitious men
  3. Epigrams. The First Booke. 20. Of Negative, and Positive good
  4. Epigrams. The Second Booke. 30. That the setled quiet of our mind ought not to be moved at sinister accidents
  5. Epigrams. The Third Booke. 5. A certaine ancient philosopher did hereby insi∣nuate, how necessary a thing the administrati∣on of iustice was: and to be alwaies vigilant in the judicious di∣stribution of punishment, and recompence


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