31.
“Wherewith me thought he was departed quite,
And Morpheus that sluggishe god of sleepe,
Did leaue my limmes, wherewith I stoode vpright,
Deuising long what profite I could reape
Of this my dreame, which playnly did expresse
That neyther want nor wealth doth make man’s blesse:
Who hath the meane with a contented minde,
Most perfect blesse his God hath him assignde.
32.