My wishes are but few,
All easy to fulfil,
I make the limits of my power
The bounds unto my will.
I feel no care of coyne,
Well-doing is my wealth;
My mind to me an empire is,
While grace affordeth health.
I clip high-climbing thoughts,
The wings of swelling pride;
Their fall is worst, that from the height
Of greatest honors slide.
Spare diet is my fare,
My clothes more fit than fine;
I know I feed and clothe a foe
That, pampered, would repine.
To rise by others’ fall
I deem a losing gain;
All states with others’ ruins built,
To ruin run amain.