50. His Content in the Country
HERE, Here I live with what my boardCan with the smallest cost afford;Though ne’er so mean the viands be,They well content my Prue and me:Or pea or bean, or wort or beet,Whatever comes, Content makes sweet.Here we rejoice, because no rentWe pay for our poor tenement;Wherein we rest, and never fearThe landlord or the usurer.The quarter-day does ne’er affrightOur peaceful slumbers in the night:We eat our own, and batten more,Because we feed on no man’s score;But pity those whose flanks grow great,Swell’d with the lard of other’s meat.We bless our fortunes, when we seeOur own beloved privacy;And like our living, where we’re knownTo very few, or else to none.