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EBBA 20012

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
A sweet and pleasant Sonet, entituled: My minde
to me a kingdome is. To the tune of, In Creet, etc,

M Y minde to me a Kingdome is,
such perfect joyes therein I find,
It farre exceeds all earthly blisse,
that world affords, or growes by kind:
Though much I want that most men have,
Yet doth my mind forbid me crave

Content I live, this is my stay,
I seeke no more then may suffice,
I presse to beare no haughty sway,
looke what I lacke my minde supplies:
Loe, thus I triumph like a King,
Content with that my mind doth bring.

I see how plenty surfets oft,
and hasty climbers oft doe fall,
I see how those that sit aloft,
mishap doth threaten most of all,
They get, they toyle, they spend with care,
Such cares my mind could never beare.

I laugh not at anothers losse,
I grudge not at anothers gaine,
No wordly wave my minde can tosse,
I brooke that is anothers bane:
I feare no foe, I scorne no friend,
I dread no death, I feare no end.

Some have too much, yet still they crave,
I little have, yet seeke no more,
They are but poore, though much they have,
And I am rich with little store,
They poore, I rich, they beg, I give,
They lacke, I lend, they pine, I live.

My wealth is health and perfect ease.
my conscience cleare, my chiefe defence:
I never seeke by bribes to please,
nor by desert to give offence:
Loe thus I live, thus will I die,
Would all did so as well as I.

No princely pompe, no wealthy store,
no force to get the victory,
No wily wit to salve a sore,
no shape to win a Lovers eye,
To none of these I yeeld as thrall,
For why my mind despiseth all.

I joy not at an earthly blisse,
I weigh not Cresus wealth a straw,
For Care, I care not what it is,
I feare not Fortunes fatall law:
My mind is such as may not move,
For beauty bright or force of love:

I wish not what I have at will,
I wander not to seeke for more,
I like the plaine, I clime no hill,
in greatest storme I sit on shore,
And laugh at those that toile in vaine,
To get that must be lost againe.

I kisse not were I wish to kill,
I faine no love where most I hate,
I breake no sleepe to winne my will,
I waite not at the mighties gate,
I scorne no poore, I feare no rich,
I feele no want, nor have too much.

The Court, ne Cart, I like, ne loath,
extreames are counted worst of all,
The golden meane betwixt them both,
doth surest sit, and feares no fall:
This is my choyce, for why I finde,
No wealth is like a quiet minde.

Printed at London for H. G.

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