Contentment gives a crown,
Where fortune hath denyed it.

My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
Nor decked with diamonds, and Indian stones
Nor to be seen: my crown is called content;
A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

'Tis better to be lowly born,
And range in humble livers, in content,
Than to be perked up in a glistering grief,
And wear a golden sorrow....

Honour and shame from no condition rise,
Act well your part, there all the honour lies,

Much will always wanting be

To him who much desires. Thrice happy he

To whom the wise indulgency of heaven,

With sparing hand, but just enough has given. Cowley.