I joy not in no earthly blisse, I force not Cressus welth a straw: For care I know not what it is, I feare not Fortunes fatall law. My mind is such as may not move, for beautie bright nor force of love. I wish but what I have at will, I wander not to seeke for more: I like the plaine I clime no hill, in greatest stormes I sit on shore: and laugh at them that toyle in vaine, to get what must bee lost againe. I kisse not where I wish to kill, I faine not love where most I hate: I breake no sleepe to winne my will, I waite not at the mighties gate: I scorne no poore nor feare no rich, I feele no want no have to much. The Court and cart I like nor loath, extreames are counted worst of all: the golden meane beetweene them both, doth surest sit and feare no fall: this is my choyce, for why I finde, no wealth is like the quiet minde. attrib. Sir Edward Dyer (1543-1607)