John Dryden

Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

Content with poverty, my soul I arm;
And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

Love taught him shame; and shame, with love at strife,
Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.

Love taught him shame; and shame, with love at strife,
Soon taught the sweet civilities of life.

Ay, these look like the workmanship of heaven;
This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
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Ay, these look like the workmanship of heaven;
This is the porcelain clay of human kind,
And therefore cast into these noble moulds.

Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me.
I have a soul that, like an ample shield,
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Let fortune empty her whole quiver on me.
I have a soul that, like an ample shield,
Can take in all, and verge enough for more.

Whatever he did, was done with so much ease,
In him alone 'twas natural to please.

Whatever he did, was done with so much ease,
In him alone 'twas natural to please.