364 LIFE OF COTTON. 



III. 

 O senseless man ! that murmurs still 



For happiness ; and does not know. 

 Even though he might enjoy his will, 



What he would have to make him so* 



IV. 



]s it true happiness to be, 



By undiscerning fortune, plac'd 



In the most eminent degree, 



Where few arrive, and none stand fast ? 



V. 



Titles and wealth, are fortune's toils 

 Wherewith the vain themselves ensnare ; 



The great, are proud of borrow'd spoils; 

 The miser's plenty, breeds his care ; 



VI. 



The one, supinely, yawns to rest; 



Th' other, eternally, doth toil ; 

 Each of them, equally, a beast; 



A pamper'd horse, or laboring moil. 



VII. 



The tilulado's oft disgrac'd, 



By publick hate, or private frown ; 



And he whose hand the creature rais'd, 

 Has yet a foot to kick him down. 



VIII. 

 The drudge who would all get, all save, 



Like a brute beast both feeds and lies $ 

 Prone to the earth, he digs his grave, 



And in the very labour dies : 



IX. 



Excess of ill-got, ill-kept pelf, 



Does only death and danger breed ; 



Whilst one rich worldling starves himself, 

 With what would thousand others feed. 



