Ivvenilia :: :: University of Virginia Library

And first, that no man else may censure me,
For vaunting what belongeth not to me:
Heare what I have not; for, I'le not deny
To make confession of my poverty.

I have not of my selfe the power or grace,
To be, or not to be; one minute-space.
I have not strength another word to write,
Or tell you what I purpose to indite:
Or thinke out halfe a thought, before my death,
But by the leave of him that gave me breath.
I have no native goodnesse in my soul:
But I was over all corrupt and foule,
And till another cleans'd me, I had nought
That was not stain'd within me: not a thought.
J have no proper merit, neither will,
Or to resolve, or act but what is ill.
I have no meanes of safety, or content,
In ought which mine owne wisedome can invent,
Nor have I reason to be desperate tho:
Because for this a remedy I know.

J have no portion in the world like this,
That I may breath that ayre, which common is:
Nor have I seene within this spacious Round,
What I have worth my Ioy or sorrow found.
Except it hath for these that follow bin,
The Love of my Redeemer, and my sinn.

I none of those great Priviledges have,
Which make the Minions of the Time, so brave.
I have no sumptuous Palaces or Bowers
That overtop my neighbours with their Towrs.

I have no large Demeanes or Princely Rents,
Like those Heroes, nor their discontents.
I have no glories from mine Ancesters;
For want of reall worth to bragge of theirs.
Nor have I basenesse in my pedigree;
For it is noble, though obscure it be.

I haue no gold those honours to obtaine,
Which men might heretofore, by Uertue gaine,
Nor have I wit, if wealth were given me;
To thinke bought Place or Title honour'd me.
I (yet) have no beliefe that they are wise,
Who forbase ends, can basely temporise:
Or that it will at length be ill for me,
That I liv'd poore, to keepe my Spirit free.

I have no Causes in our Pleading Courts,
Nor start I at our Chancery Reports.
No fearefull Bill hath yet affrighted me;
No Motion, Order, Iudgement, or Decree.
Nor have I forced beene to tedious Iourneys,
Betwixt my Counsellors and my Attourneys.
I have no neede of those long-gowned warriers,
Who play at Westminster, unarm'd at Barriers:
Nor gamster for those Common pleas am I,
Whose sport is marred by the Chancery.

I have no iuggling hand, no double tongue;
Nor any minde to take, or doe a wrong.
I have no shifts or cunning sleights, on which
I feed my selfe, with hope of being rich.
Nor have I one of these, to make me poore;
Hounds, Humors, running Horses, Hawkes, or Whore,

I have no pleasure in acquaintance, where
The Rules of State, and Ceremony, are
Obseru'd so seriously; that I must dance,
And act o're all the Complements of France

And Spaine, and Italy; before I can
Be taken, for a well-bred Englishman:
And every time we meet, be forc't agen,
To put in action that most idle Sceane.
Mong these, much precious time (unto my cost)
And much true-hearty meaning have I lost.
Which having found: I doe resolve therefore,
To lose my Time, and Friendship, so no more.

I have no Complements; but what may show,
That I doe manners and good breeding know.
For much I hate, the forced, Apish tricks,
Of those our home disdaining Politicks:
Who to the Forraine guise are so affected,
That English Honesty is quite rejected:
And in the stead thereof, they furnisht home,
With shadowes of Humanity doe come.
Oh! how judicious in their owne esteeme,
And how compleately; Travelled they seeme;
If in the place of reall kindnesses,
(Which Nature could have taught them to expresse)
They can with gestures, lookes, and language sweet,
Fawne like a Curtezan, on all they meet:
And vie, in humble and kind speeches; when
They doe most proudly, and most falsely meane.
On this; too many falsely set their face,
Of Courtship and of wisedome: but 'tis base.
For, servile (unto me) it doth appeare,
When we descend, to sooth and flatter, where
We want affection: yea, I hate it more,
Then to be borne a slave; or to be poore.
I have no pleasure, or delight in ought,
That by dissembling, must to passe be brought.
If I dislike, I'le sooner tell them so,
Then hide my face, beneath a friendly show.

For he, who to be iust, hath an intent,
Needs not dissemble, nor a lye invent.
I rather wish to faile with honesty,
Then to prevaile in ought by treachery.
And with his minde I'le safer sleepe, then all
Our Machavillian Polititians shall.

I have no minde to flatter; though I might
Be made some Lords companion; or a Knight.
Nor shall my Verse for me on begging goe,
Though I might starve, unlesse it did doe so.

I have no Muses that will serve the turne,
At every Triumph, and reioyce or mourne,
Vpon a minutes warning for their hire;
If with old Sherry they themselves inspire.
I am not of a temper like to those,
That can provide an houres sad talke in Prose,
For any Funerall; and then goe Dine,
And choke my griefe, with Sugar plums and Wine.
I cannot at the Claret sit and laugh,
And then halfe tipsie, write an Epitaph;
Or howle an Epicœdium for each Groome,
That is, by Fraud or Nigardize, become
A wealthy Alderman: Nor, for each Gull,
That hath acquir'd the stile of Worshipfull,
I cannot for reward, adorne the Hearse
Of some old rotten Miser, with my Verse:
Nor like the Poetasters of the Time,
Goe howle a dolefull Elegie in Ryme,
For euery Lord or Ladiship that dyes:
And then perplexe their Heires, to Patronize
That muddy Poesie. Oh! how I scorne,
Those Raptures, which are free, and nobly borne,
Should Fidler-like, for entertainement scrape
At strangers windowes: and goe play the Ape,

In counterfeiting Passion, when there's none,
Or in good earnest, foolishly bemoane
(In hope of cursed bounty) their just death;
Who, (living) merit not a minutes breath
To keepe their Fame alive, unlesse to blow
Some Trumpet which their blacke disgrace may show.

I cannot (for my life) my Pen compell,
Vpon the praise of any man to dwell:
Vnlesse I know, (or thinke at least) his worth,
To be the same, which I have blazed forth.
Had I some honest Suite, the gaine of which,
Would make me noble, eminent, and rich:
And that to compasse it, no meanes there were,
Vnlesse I basely flattered some great Peere;
Would with that Suite, my ruine I might get:
If on those termes I would endeavour it.

I have not bin to their condition borne,
Who are inclined to respect and scorne,
As men in their estates, doe rise or fall:
Or rich, or poore, I Vertue love in all.
And where I finde it not, I doe despise
To fawne on them; how high so e're they rise:
For, where proud Greatnesse without worth I see,
Old Mordicay had not a stiffer knee.

I cannot giue a Plaudit (I protest)
When as his Lordship thinkes, he breakes a jeast,
Vnlesse it move me, neither can I grin,
When he a causelesse laughter doth begin.
I cannot sweare him, truely honourable;
Because he once receiv'd me to his table,
And talk't as if the Muses glad might be,
That the vouchsafed such a grace to me.
His slender worth, I could not blazon so,
By strange Hyperboles, as some would do.

Or wonder at it, as if none had bin
His equall, since King William first came in.
Nor can I thinke true Uertue ever car'd
To give or take, (for praise) what I have heard.

For if we peyze them well; what goodly grace,
Have outward Beauties, Riches, Titles, Place,
Or such; that we, the owners should commend,
When no true vertues, doe on these attend?
If beautifull he be, what honour's that?
As faire as he, is many a Beggers brat.
If we, his noble Titles would extoll;
Those Titles, he may have and be a foole.
If Seats of Iustice he hath climb'd (we say)
So Tyrants, and corrupt oppressors may.
If for a large estate his praise we tell:
A thousand Villanies, may be prais'd as well.
If he, his Princes good esteeme be in;
Why, so hath many a bloudy Traytor bin.
And if in these things he alone excell,
Let those that list upon his praises dwell.
Some other worth I finde, e're I have sense
Of any praise-deserving excellence.

I have no friends, that once affected were,
But to my heart, they sit this day as neare,
As when I most endear'd them (though they seeme
To fall from my opinion or esteeme:)
For precious Time, in idle would be spent,
If I with All, should alwaies complement.
And till, my love I may to purpose show,
I care not wher' they thinke I love or no.
For sure I am, if any finde me chang'd;
Their greatnesse, nor their meannesse me estrang'd.

I have not priz'd mens loues, the lesse or more,
Because I saw them, either rich or poore;

But as their love and Vertues did appeare,
I such esteem'd them, whosoe're they were.

I have no trust, or confidence in friends,
That seeke to know me, meerly for their ends,
Nor have I ever said, I loved yet;
Where I expected more then Love for it,
And let me faile of that where most I lou'd,
If that with greater joy I be not mou'd
By twenty-fold, when I my kindnes show,
Then when their favours they on me bestow.

I have not that vile minde; nor shall my brest
For ever, with such basenes be possest;
As in my anger (be it ne're so iust)
To utter ought committed to my trust
In time of friendship; though constrained so,
That want of telling it, should me undo.
For, whosoe're hath trust repos'd in me;
Shall ever finde me true, though false he be.

I have no love to Country, Prince or Friend;
That can be more, or lesse, or have an end.
For whatsoever state they rais'd me to,
I would not love them, better then I do.
Nor can I hate them; though on me they should
Heape all the scorne, and Iniury they could.

I have no doting humour, to affect
Where love I finde rewarded with neglect.
I never was with melancholy sit
Oppressed in such stupid manner, yet,
As that ungently to my friends I spake;
Or heed to their contentment did not take:
Nor have I felt my Anger so inflam'd,
But that with gentle speech it might be ram'd.

I have no private cause of discontent,
Nor grudge against the publike government.

I have no spight, or envie in my brest,
Nor doth anothers peace disturbe my rest.
J have not (yet) that dunghill humour, which
Some Great-men have; who, so they may be rich,
Thinke all gaine sweet, and nought ashamed are,
In vile, and rascall Suites to have a share.
For I their basenesse scorne: and ever loath'd
By wronging others, to be fed or cloath'd,
Much more, to have my pride, or lust maintain'd,
With what, by foule oppression hath beene gain'd.

I have not beene enamor'd on the Fate
Of men, to great advancements fortunate.
I never yet a Favorite did see
So happy, that I wished to be he:
Nor would I, whatsoe're of me became,
Be any other man, but who I am.
For, though I am assur'd the destiny
Of millions tendeth to felicity:
Yet those deare secret comforts, which I finde,
Vnseene, within the closet of my minde:
Give more assurance of true happinesse,
Then any outward glories can expresse.
And 'tis so hard, (what shewes soe're there be)
The inward plight of other men to see:
That my estate, with none exchange I dare,
Although my Fortunes more despised were.

I have not hitherto divulged ought,
Wherein my words dissented from my thought.
Nor would I faile, if I might able be,
To make my manners and my words agree.
J have not beene ashamed to confesse
My lowest Fortunes, or the kindnesses,
Or poorest men: Nor have I proud beene made,
By any favor from a great Man had.

I have not plac't so much of my Content,
Vpon the goods of Fortune, to lament
The losse of them; more then may seemely be,
To grieve for things, which are no part of me.
For, I have knowne the worst of being poore,
Yea lost, when I to lose have had no more,
And though, the Coward World more quakes for feare
Of Poverty, then any plagues that are:
Yet, He that mindes his End, observes his Ward,
The Meanes pursues, and keepes a heart prepar'd:
Dares Scorne and Poverty as boldly meete,
As others gladly Fame and Riches greet.
For those, who on the stage of this proud World,
Into the pawes of Want and Scorne are hurld:
Are in the Master prize, that tryeth men;
And Vertue fighteth her brav'st combat then.

I no Antipathy (as yet) have had,
Twixt me, and any Creature, God hath made:
For if they doe not scratch, nor bite, nor sting,
Snakes, Serpents, Todes, or Catts, or any thing
I can endure to touch, or looke upon:
(So cannot eu'ry one whom I have knowne.)

I have no Nation on the earth abhor'd,
But with a Iew or Spaniard can accord,
As well, as with my Brother; if I finde
He beare a Vertuous and Heroick minde.

Yet (I confesse) of all men, I most hate
Such, as their manners doe adulterate.
Those Linsy-woolsie people, who are neither
French, English, Scotsh, nor Dutch, but altogether.
Those, I affect not; rather wish I could,
That they were fish, or flesh, or hot, or cold:
But none among all them, worse brooke I, then
Our meere Hispaniolized English men.

And if we scape their Treacheries at home,
I'le feare no mischiefes, where so'ere I come.

J have not fear'd who my Religion knowes:
Nor ever for preferment, made I showes
Of what I was not. For, although I may
Through want, be forc't to put on worse array,
Vpon my Body; I will ever finde
Meanes to maintaine a habit for my Minde,
Of Truth in graine: and weare it, in the sight
Of all the world: in all the worlds despight.

I, their presumption, have not, who dare blame
A fault in others; and correct the same
With grievous punishments: yet guilty be,
Of those offences in more high degree.
For, oh! how bold, and impudent a face,
(And what unmoved hearts of Flint and Brasse)
Have those corrupted Magistrates, who dare
Vpon the seat of Iudgement sit; and there
Without an inward horror preach abroad,
The guilt of Sinne, and heavy wrath of God;
(Against offenders pleading at their Barr)
Yet know, what plott, within their bosomes are?
Who, when (enthron'd for Iustice) they behold
A reverend Magistrate, both grave, and old:
And heare how sternly, he doth aggravate
Each little crime, offenders perpetrate:
How much the fact he seemeth to abhor;
How he, a just correction labours for;
How he admires, and wonders that among
A people, where the Faith hath flourisht long
Such wickednes should raigne which (he hath heard)
The Heathen to commit, have bin affeard.

Who that observes all this, would thinke that He
Did but an houre before, receive a fee,

Some Innocent (by law) to murther there?
Or else, from Children fatherlesse to teare
Their iust inheritance? and that when this
Were done (as if that nought had beene amisse)
He could goe sleepe upon a deed so foule;
And neither thinke on mans, or Gods controule?
I have not a stupidity so mad,
And this presumption, I would no man had.

I have no question made, but some there are,
Who, when of this my Motto they shall heare;
Will have a better stomacke, to procure
That I may check, or punishment endure,
Then their owne evill manners to amend:
For that's a worke, they cannot yet intend.
And though, they many view (before their face)
Fal'ne, and each minute falling to disgrace;
(For lesse offences farre then they commit)
Without remorse, and penitence they sit.
As if that They, (and they all one) had binne
Without the compasse of reproofe of sinne.

I have no great opinion of their wit,
Nor ever saw their actions prosper, yet,
Who wedded to their owne devices be,
And will nor counsell heare, nor danger see,
That is foretold them by their truest friends:
But rather, list to them, who for their ends
Doe footh their fancies. And the best excuse
That such men can, to hide their folly use;
(When all their idle projects come to nought)
Are these words of the foole. I had not thought,

I have not their delight, who pleasure take
At Natures imperfections, scoffes to make.
Nor have I bitternesse against that sinne,
Which thorow weakenes hath committed bin.

(For I my selfe, am to offences prone,
And every day commit I many a one)
But at their hatefull crimes I onely glance,
That sinne of pleasure, pride, and arrogance.

I have not so much knowledge as to call
The Arts in question; neither wit so small,
To waste my spirits, those things to attaine,
Which all the world hath labour'd for in vaine.

I have not so much beauty, to attract
The eyes of Ladies: neither have I lackt
Of that proportion which doth well suffice
To make me gracious in good peoples eyes.

I have not done, so many a holy deed;
As that of IESVS CHRIST I have no need.
And my good workes I hope are not so few,
But that in me a living Faith they shew.

I have not found ability so much,
To carry Milstones; yea, and were it such,
I should not greatly vaunt it: for in this,
A scurvie pack-horse far my better is.
I love his manly strength, that can resist
His owne desires: force passages when he list,
Through all his strong affections, and subdue
The stout attempts of that rebellious crewe.
This, were a braver strength then Sampson got:
And this, I covet, but I have it not.

I have not so much heedlesnes of things,
Which appertaine unto the Courts of Kings;
But that from my low station, I can see
A Princes love may oft abused be.
For many men their Country injure dare
At home; where all our eyes upon them are,
And (of the worlds Protector) I implore,
The trust abroad, be not abused more.

I have no Brother, but of yonger age,
Nor have I Birth right without heritage:
And with that land, let me inherit shame,
Vnlesse I grieve when I possesse the same.

The value of a penny have J not,
That was by bribery or extortion got.
I have no Lands that from the Church were pild,
To bring (hereafter) ruine to my Child.
And hitherto, I thinke, I have beene free
From Widdowes, or from Orphants cursing me.

The Spleene, the Collicke, or the Lethargy,
Gouts, Palsies, Dropsies, or a Lunacy.
I (by inheritance) have none of these:
Nor raigning sinne; nor any foule disease.

I have no debts, but such as (when I can)
I meane to pay; nor is there any man
(To whom I stand ingag'd by ought I borrow)
Should losse sustaine though I should dye to morrow:
And if they should (so much my friends they be)
Their greatest losse they'le thinke the losse of me.
And well they know, I tooke not what they lent,
To wrong their loves, or to be idly spent.

Except the Devill, and that cursed brood,
Which have dependance on his Devil hood,
I know no foes I have; for, if there be,
In none, more malice, then I finde in me:
The earth, that man (at this time) doth not beare
Who would not, if some just occasions were;
(Ev'n in his height of spleene) my life to save,
Adventute with one foot, into his grave.

To make me carefull; Children I have none,
Nor have I any Wife to get them on;
Nor have J, (yet to keepe her) had I one;
Nor can this spoyle my Marriage being knowne.

Since I am sure, I was not borne for her,
That shall before my worth, her wealth prefer:
For I doe set my Vertues at a rate,
As high as any prise their Riches at.
And if All count, the venture too much cost,
In keeping it my selfe there's nothing lost.
For, she I wed, shall somewhat thinke in me
More worthy Love, then great revenues be.
And if I finde not one, of such a minde,
(As such indeed, are Iewels rare to finde)
Ile clasped in mine owne embraces lye:
And never touch a woman till I dye.

For, shall a Fellow, whom (the Vsurer)
His Father, by extortion did prefer
Vnto an heritage in value cleare,
Above foure times a thousand pounds a yeare,
So worthily or so confident become?
(By meanes of that his goodly annuall somme,
Which may be lost to morrow) as to dare
Attempt a Nymph of Honour for his pheare?
Shall he; that hath with those foure thousand pounds
A gaming vaine; a deepe mouth'd cry of Hounds,
Three cast of Hawkes, of Whores as many brace,
Sixe hunting Naggs, and five more for the race:
(Perhaps a numerous brood of fighting-Cocks)
Physitians, Barbers, Surgeons for the Pox;
And twenty other humors to maintaine,
(Besides the yeerely charges of his traine)
With this revenue? Most of which, or all
To morgage must be set? perhaps to sale
To pay his creditors, and yet all faile
To keepe his crasie body from the Iayle?
Shall this dull Foole, with his uncertaine store
(And in all honesty and Vertues poore)

Hope for a Mistresse, noble, rich and faire?
And is it likely that I can dispaire
To be as happy, if I seeke it would?
Who such a marchlesse fortune have in hold:
That though the World my ruine plot and threat,
I can in spight of it be rich, and great?

A silly Girle, no sooner understands,
That she is left in Portion, or in Lands;
So large a fortune, that it doth excell
The greatest part who neare about her dwell:
But straight begins to rate, and prize her self
According to the value of her pelf.
And though no Gentry, nor good breeding born,
Can all, that have estates beneath her, scorn.

This wit a Woman hath: and shall not I,
Who know I have a Wealth which none can buy
For all the world; expect a nobler phere
Then sutes unto a hundred pounds a yeere?
Shall love of Truth, and Vertue make of me
A match no better worthy, then is He
Who knowes not what they meane? and doth possesse
In outward fortunes neither more nor lesse?

Have I oft heard so many faire ones plaine
How fruitlesse Titles are? how poore and vaine
They found rich greatnes, where they did not find,
True Love, and the endowments of the mind?
Have fairest Ladies often sworne to me
That if they might, but onely, Mistresse be
Of true affection; they would prize it more
Then all those glories, which the most adore:
Have I observ'd how hard it is to find
A constant heart? a just and honest mind;
How few good natures in the world there are,
How scanty true affection is? how rare?

And shall I passe as true a Heart away,
As hath conceiv'd an honest thought to day:
As if in value to no more it came,
Then would endeare me to a vulgar Dame
On equall termes? or else undoe me with
Some old rich Croan, that hath out-liv'd her teeth?
I'le rather breake it with proud scorne; that dead,
The wormes may rifle for my Mayden-head.

I have no love to beauties, which are gone
Much like a Rose in Iune, as soone as blowne.
Those painted Cabinets and nought within,
Have little power my respect to win.
Nor have I, yet, that stupid love to pelfe,
As for the hope thereof, to yoke my selfe
With any female; betwixt whom, and me,
There could not in the soule, a marriage be.
For whosoever joyne without that care;
Fooles, and accursed in their matches are;
And so are you, that either heare or view
What I averre, unlesse you thinke it true.

I have no meaning, whensoere I wed,
That my companion, shall become my head.
Nor would I (if I meant to keepe my right)
So much as say so, though that win her might.
Not though a Dutchesse: for the meanes I'le use
To keepe my worth, though my reward I loose.
Yea, from a prison had she raised me,
Lord of her fortunes, and her Selfe to be:
I that respect, would still expect to have,
Which might become her Husband: not her slave.
And should I spouse a Begger, I would shew,
What love, and honor, to a wife were due.

I have not, yet of any scorned bin;
Whose good opinion, I have sought to win.

Nor have I (when I meane to wooe) a feare,
That any man shall make me willow weare.

I have not eyes so excellent to see
Things (as some men can do) before they be.
Nor purblind sight, which crimes farre off can mark:
Yet seeme, to faults which are more neare me, dark.
I have not eares for every tale that's told,
Nor memory, things frivolous to hold.
I have not their credulity that dare
Give credit unto all reports they heare.
Nor have I subject to their dulnesse beene,
Who can beleeeve no more then they have seene.

I have no feeling of those wrongs that be
By base unworthy fellowes, offered me:
For my contentment, and my glory, lyes
Above the pitch, their spight or malice flyes.

I have not need enough as yet, to serve;
Nor impudence to crave till I deserve.
I have no hope, the worlds esteeme to get:
Nor could a Foole, or Knave, e're brooke me yet.
I have not villany enough, to prey
Vpon the weake: or friendship to betray.
Nor have I so much love to life, that I
Would seeke to save it by dishonestly;

I have not Cowardize enough to feare,
In honest actions; though my death be there:
Nor heart, to perpetrate a wilfull sinne:
Though I with safety, large renowne might win:
And for omitting it, were sure to dye,
Ne're to be thought on, but with infamy.

I have not their base cruelty, who can
Insult upon an over-grieved man:
Or tread on him, that at my feet doth bow,
For, I protest, no villany I know

That could be done me; but if I perceiv'd
(Or thought) the doer, without faigning griev'd:
I truely could forgive him; as if he
Had never in a thought abused me.
And if my love to mercy, I belye,
Let God deny me mercy when I dye.

I have not that unhappinesse, to be
A Rich mans Sonne; For he had trained me
In some vaine path; and I had never sought
That knowledge which my poverty hath taught.

I have no inclination to respect
Each vulgar complement, nor yet neglect
An honest shew of friendship: For, I sweare,
I rather wish, that I deceived were;
Then of so base a disposition be,
As to distrust, till cause were given me:

J have no Constitution, to accord
To ought dishonest, sooner for a Lord
Then for his meanest Groome; and hopes there be
It never will be otherwise with me.

I have no policies to make me seeme
A man well worthy of the worlds esteeme.
Nor have I hope, I shall hereafter grow
To any more regard, for saying so;

I have no doubt, though here a slighted thing,
But I am favourite to Heav'ns great King.
Nor have I feare, but all that's good in me,
Shall in my Life, or Death, rewarded be.

But yet I have not that attain'd, for which
Those who account this nothing, thinke me rich?
Nor that, which they doe reckon worth esteeme,
To whom, the riches of the mind, doe seeme
A scornefull Poverty. But let that goe,
Men cannot prize the Pearles they doe not know.

Nor have I power to teach them: for if I
Should here consume my gift of Poesie:
(And wholly wast my spirits, to expresse
What rich contents, a poore estate may blesse)
It were impossible, to move the sense
Of those brave things, in their intelligence,

I have not found, on what I may rely,
Vnlesse it carry some Divinity
To make me confident: for, all the glory,
And all hopes foile, in things meere transitory.

What man is there among us; doth not know
A thousand men, this night to bed will goe,
Of many a hundred goodly things possest;
That shall have nought to morrow but a Chest,
And one poore sheete to lye in? What I may
Next morning have, I know not; But to day,
A Friend, Meate, Drinke, and fitting Clothes to weare;
Some Bookes, and Papers which my Iewels are;
A Servant and a Horse, all this I have,
And when I dye, one promist me a Grave.
A Grave, that quiet closet of Content:
And I have built my selfe a Monument.
But (as I live) excepting onely this;
(Which of my wealth the Inventory is)
I have so little; I my oath might save:
If I should take it, that I, nothing have: