Richard Lovelace - PentadiiRichard Lovelace - Pentadii
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PENTADII.
Non est, fulleris, haec beata non est
Quod vos creditis esse, vita non est:
Fulgentes manibus videre gemmas
Et testudineo jacere lecto,
Aut pluma latus abdidisse molli,
Aut auro bibere, aut cubare cocco;
Regales dapibus gravare mensas,
Et quicquid Lybico secatur arvo;
Non una positum tenere cella:
Sed nullos trepidum timere casus,
Nec vano populi favore tangi,
Et stricto nihil aestuare ferro:
Hoc quisquis poterit, licebit illi
Fortunam moveat loco superbus.
ENGLISHED.
It is not, y` are deceav`d, it is not blisse
What you conceave a happy living is:
To have your hands with rubies bright to glow,
Then on your tortoise-bed your body throw,
And sink your self in down, to drink in gold,
And have your looser self in purple roll`d;
With royal fare to make the tables groan,
Or else with what from Lybick fields is mown,
Nor in one vault hoard all your magazine,
But at no cowards fate t` have frighted bin;
Nor with the peoples breath to be swol`n great,
Nor at a drawn stiletto basely swear.
He that dares this, nothing to him`s unfit,
But proud o` th` top of fortunes wheel may sit.
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