The man of life vpright

The man of life vpright,

Whose guiltlesse hart is free

From all dishonest deedes,

Or thought of vanitie,

The man whose silent dayes,

In harmeles ioys are spent,

Whom hopes cannot delude,

Nor sorrow discontent;

That man needs neither towers

Nor armour for defence,

Nor secret vautes to flie

From thunders violence.

Hee onely can behold

With vnafrighted eyes

The horrours of the deepe

And terrours of the Skies.

Thus, scorning all the cares

That fate, or fortune brings,

He makes the heau'n his booke,

His wisedome heeu'nly things,

Good thoughts his onely friendes,

His wealth a well-spent age,

The earth his sober Inne

And quiet Pilgrimage.