Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too read more

Ten poor men sleep in peace on one straw heap, as Saadi sings,
But the immensest empire is too narrow for two kings.

Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.

Their wants but few, their wishes all confin'd.

Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy
my remaining days, if read more

Let me posses what I now have, or even less, so that I may enjoy
my remaining days, if Heaven grant any to remain.
[Lat., Sit mihi quod nunc est, etiam minus et mihi vivam
Quod superest aevi--si quid superesse volunt di.]

In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and read more

In Paris a queer little man you may see,
A little man all in gray;
Rosy and round as an apple is he,
Content with the present whate'er it may be,
While from care and from cash he is equally free,
And merry both night and day!
"Ma foi! I laugh at the world," says he,
"I laugh at the world, and the world laughs at me!"
What a gay little man in gray.

I'll be merry and free,
I'll be sad for nae-body;
If nae-body cares for me,
read more

I'll be merry and free,
I'll be sad for nae-body;
If nae-body cares for me,
I'll care for nae-body.

Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails,
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.

Where wealth and freedom reign, contentment fails,
And honour sinks where commerce long prevails.

Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?

Happy am I; from care I'm free!
Why aren't they all contented like me?

The more a man denies himself, the more he shall receive from
heaven. Naked, I seek the camp of read more

The more a man denies himself, the more he shall receive from
heaven. Naked, I seek the camp of those who covet nothing.
[Lat., Quanto quisque sibi plura negaverit,
A dis plura feret. Nil cupientium
Nudus castra peto.]

In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
read more

In a cottage I live, and the cot of content,
Where a few little rooms for ambition too low,
Are furnish'd as plain as a patriarch's tent,
With all for convenience, but nothing for show:
Like Robinson Crusoe's, both peaceful and pleasant,
By industry stor'd, like the hive of a bee;
And the peer who looks down with contempt on a peasant.
Can ne'er be look'd up to with envy by me.