The equal friend, no grudge, no strife;
No charge of rule, nor governance;
Without disease, the healthful life;
The household of continuance:

The mean diet, no delicate fare;
True wisdom join'd with simpleness;
The night discharged of all care,
Where wine the wit may not oppress:

The faithful wife, without debate;
Such sleeps as may beguile the night.
Contented with thine own estate;
Ne wish for Death, ne fear his might.

Fortunately this same epigram was translated by R. Fletcher in
1656: ¹

Most pleasant Martial these are they
That make the happyer life and day,
Means not sweat for, but resign'd,
Fire without end, fields still in kinde,
No strife, no office, inward peace,
Free strength, a body sans disease,
A prudent plainesse, equal friends,
Cheap Cates, not scraped from the world's ends,
A night not drown'd, but free from care,
Sheets never sad, and yet chast are,
Sleep that makes short the shades of night,
Art such thou would'st be, it there might
A choice be offer'd, nor dost fear
Nor wish thy last dayes exit here.

Nearly fifty years later, in 1695, the same epigram was translated
again. ²

What our Lives render most at ease,
My dearest Martial, they are these:
A 'State that's left, not got with Toil;
A constant Fire, a fruitful Soil;
A quiet Life, from Law-Suits free;
But seldom that the Gown doth see;

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