The body craveth meats, and the spirit is athirst for peacefulness, He that hath these, hath enough; for all beyond is vanity. Surfeit vaulteth over pleasure, to light upon the hither side of pain; And great store is great care, the rather if it mightily increaseth. Albeit too little is a trouble, yet too much shall swell into an evil, If wisdom stand not nigh to moderate the wishes: For covetousness never had enough, but moaneth at its wants for ever, And rich men have commonly more need to be taught contentment than the poor. That hungry chasm in their market-place gapeth still unsatisfied, Yea, fling in all the wealth of Rome,--it asketh higher victims; So, when the miser's gold cannot fill the measure of his lust, Curtius must leap into the pit, and avarice shall close upon his life. Behold Independence in his rags, all too easily contented, Careful for nothing, thankful for much, and uncomplaining in his poverty: Such an one have I somewhile seen earn his crust with gladness; He is a gatherer of simples, culling wild herbs upon the hills; And now, as he sitteth on the beach, with his motherless child beside him, To rest them in the cheerful sun, and sort their mints and horehound,-- Tell me, can ye find upon his forehead the cloud of covetous anxiety, Or note the dull unkindled eyes of sated sons of pleasure?-- For there is more joy of life with that poor picker of the ditches, Than among the multitude of wealthy who wed their gains to discontent. I have seen many rich, burdened with the fear of poverty, I have seen many poor, buoyed with all the carelessness of wealth: For the rich had the spirit of a pauper, and the moneyless a liberal heart; The first enjoyeth not for having, and the latter hath nothing but enjoyment. None is poor but the mean in mind, the timorous, the weak, and unbelieving; None is wealthy but the affluent in soul, who is satisfied and floweth over. The poor-rich is attenuate for fears, the rich-poor is fattened upon hopes; Cheerfulness is one man's welcome, and the other warneth from him by his gloom. Many poor have the pleasures of the rich, even in their own possessions; And many rich miss the poor man's comforts, and yet feel all his cares. Liberty is affluence, and the Helots of anxiety never can be counted wealthy; But he that is disenthralled from fear, goeth for the time a king; He is royal, great, and opulent, living free of fortune, And looking on the world as owner of its good, the Maker's child and heir: Whereas, the covetous is slavish, a very Midas in his avarice, Full of dismal dreams, and starved amongst his treasures: The ceaseless spur of discontent goaded him with instant apprehension, And his thirst for gold could never be quenched, for he drank with the throat of Crassus.