But, by himself degraded, turns a churl. Nobility of blood is but renown Of thy great fathers by their virtue known, 440 And a long trail of light, to thee descending down. If in thy smoke it ends, their glories shine; But infamy and villanage are thine. Then what I said before is plainly show'd, The true nobility proceeds from God; Nor left us by inheritance, but given By bounty of our stars, and grace of Heaven. Thus from a captive Servius Tullius rose, Whom for his virtues the first Romans chose: Fabricius from their walls repell'd the foe, 450 Whose noble hands had exercised the plough. From hence, my lord, and love, I thus conclude, That though my homely ancestors were rude, Mean as I am, yet I may have the grace To make you father of a generous race: And noble then am I, when I begin, In virtue clothed, to cast the rags of sin. If poverty be my upbraided crime, And you believe in Heaven, there was a time When He, the great controller of our fate, 460 Deign'd to be man, and lived in low estate; Which He who had the world at his dispose, If poverty were vice, would never choose. Philosophers have said, and poets sing, That a glad poverty's an honest thing. Content is wealth, the riches of the mind; And happy he who can that treasure find. But the base miser starves amidst his store, Broods on his gold, and, griping still at more, Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor. 470 The ragged beggar, though he want relief, Has not to lose, and sings before the thief. Want is a bitter and a hateful good, Because its virtues are not understood; Yet many things, impossible to thought, Have been by need to full perfection brought: The daring of the soul proceeds from thence, Sharpness of wit, and active diligence: Prudence at once, and fortitude, it gives, And, if in patience taken, mends our lives; 480 For even that indigence, that brings me low, Makes me myself, and Him above, to know. A good which none would challenge, few would choose, A fair possession, which mankind refuse. If we from wealth to poverty descend, Want gives to know the flatterer from the friend. If I am old and ugly, well for you, No lewd adulterer will my love pursue; Nor jealousy, the bane of married life, Shall haunt you for a wither'd homely wife; 490 For age and ugliness, as all agree, Are the best guards of female chastity. Yet since I see your mind is worldly bent, I'll do my best to further your content. And therefore of two gifts in my dispose, Think ere you speak, I grant you leave to choose: Would you I should be still deform'd and old, Nauseous to touch, and loathsome to behold; On this condition to remain for life, A careful, tender, and obedient wife, 500