University of Virginia Library

V. MY MIND TO ME A KINGDOM IS.

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This excellent philosophical song appears to have been famous in the sixteenth century. It is quoted by Ben Jonson in his play of “Every man out of his humour,” first acted in 1599. A. 1. sc. 1. where an impatient person says,

“I am no such pil'd cynique to beleeve
“That beggery is the onely happinesse,

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“Or, with a number of these patient fooles,
“To sing, “My minde to me a kingdome is,”
“When the lanke hungrie belly barkes for foode.”

It is here chiefly printed from a thin quarto Musick-book, intitled, “Bassus. Psalmes, Sonets and Songs of sadnes and pietie, made into Musicke of five parts: &c. By William Byrd, one of the Gent. of the Queenes Maiesties honorable Chappell.—Printed by Thomas East, &c.” 4to. no date: but Ames in his Typog. has mentioned another edit. of the same book, dated 1588, which I take to have been later than this of ours.

Some improvements and an additional stanza (sc. the 5th.) were had from two other ancient copies; one of them in black letter in the Pepys Collection, thus inscribed, “A sweet and pleasant sonet, entituled, “My Minde to me a Kingdom is. To the tune of, In Crete, &c.”

To these last were subjoined four other stanzas, as part of the same poem, and were accordingly so printed in our first edit. but as they are given separate by Byrd, as an independent piece, they are accordingly so printed here: See below, Song VII.

My minde to me a kingdome is;
Such perfect joy therein I finde
As farre exceeds all earthly blisse,
That God or Nature hath assignde:
Though much I want, that most would have,
Yet still my mind forbids to crave.
Content I live, this is my stay;
I seek no more than may suffice:

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I presse to beare no haughtie sway;
Look what I lack my mind supplies.
Loe! thus I triumph like a king,
Content with that my mind doth bring.
I see how plentie surfets oft,
And hastie clymbers soonest fall:
I see that such as sit aloft
Mishap doth threaten most of all:
These get with toile, and keep with feare:
Such cares my mind could never beare.
No princely pompe, nor welthie store,
No force to winne a victorie,
No wylie wit to salve a sore,
No shape to winne a lovers eye;
To none of these I yeeld as thrall,
For why my mind dispiseth all.
Some have too much, yet still they crave,
I little have, yet seek no more:
They are but poore, tho' much they have;
And I am rich with little store:
They poor, I rich; they beg, I give;
They lacke, I lend; they pine, I give.
I laugh not at anothers losse,
I grudge not at anothers gaine;

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No worldly wave my mind can tosse,
I brooke that is anothers bane:
I feare no foe, nor fawne on friend;
I loth not life, nor dread mine end.
My welth is health, and perfect ease;
My conscience clere my chiefe defence:
I never seeke by brybes to please,
Nor by desert to give offence:
Thus do I live, thus will I die;
Would all did so as well as I!