Though for me is no Formian wine,
Though no sheep in the pastures of Gaul feed for me.
Yet poverty never is mine.
Much must that man want ever who much shall demand;
What he gains whets the covetous vice;
Happy he to whom God with a niggardly hand
Has granted what yet will suffice.”—Yardley.
TO PYRRHA.
“What scented stripling, Pyrrha, wooes thee now
In pleasant cavern, all with roses fair?