The things that make a life of ease, Dear Martial, are such things as these: Wealth furnished not by work but birth, A grateful farm, a blazing hearth, No lawsuit, seldom formal dress; But leisure, stalwart healthiness, A tactful candour, equal friends, Glad guests at board which naught pretends, No drunken nights, but sorrow free, A bed of joy yet chastity; Sleep that makes darkness fly apace, So well content with destined place, Unenvious so as not to fear Your final day, nor wish it near. AT THE SEASIDE Sweet strand of genial Formiæ, Apollinaris loves to flee From troublous thought in serious Rome, And finds thee better than a home. Here Thetis' face is ruffled by A gentle wind; the waters lie Not in dead calm, but o'er the main A peaceful liveliness doth reign, Bearing gay yachts before a breeze Cool as the air that floats with ease From purple fan of damozel Who would the summer heat dispel. The angler need not far away Seek in deep water for his prey-- Your line from bed or sofa throw, And watch the captured fish below! How seldom, Rome, dost thou permit Us by such joys to benefit? How many days can one long year Credit with wealth of Formian cheer? We, round whom city worries swarm, Envy our lacqueys on a farm. Luck to you, happy slaves, affords The joys designed to please your lords! THE POET'S FINAL RETREAT IN SPAIN Mayhap, my Juvenal, your feet Stray down some noisy Roman street, While after many years of Rome I have regained my Spanish home. Bilbilis, rich in steel and gold, Makes me a rustic as of old. With easy-going toil at will Estates of uncouth name I till. Outrageous lengths of sleep I take, And oft refuse at nine to wake. I pay myself nor more nor less For thirty years of wakefulness! No fine clothes here--but battered dress, The first that comes, snatched from a press! I rise to find a hearth ablaze With oak the nearest wood purveys. This is a life of jollity: So shall I die contentedly. PHILIP MASSINGER[Z] A New Way to Pay Old Debts _Persons in the Play_ LOVELL, _an English lord_ SIR GILES OVERREACH, _a cruel extortioner_ WELLBORN, _a prodigal, nephew to Sir Giles_ ALLWORTH, _a young gentleman, page to_ Lord Lovell, _stepson to_ Lady Allworth MARRALL, _a creature of_ Sir Giles Overreach WILLDO, _a parson_ LADY ALLWORTH, _a rich widow_ MARGARET, _Sir Giles's daughter_ _The scene is laid in an English county_ ACT I SCENE I.--_A room in_ OVERREACH'S _house. Enter_ OVERREACH _and_ MARRALL. OVERREACH: This varlet, Wellborn, lives too long to upbraid me With my close cheat put on him. Will not cold Nor hunger kill him?