As the shoe's made to serve and fit the foot,
As the leg gives the measure to the boot;
So our possessions should be measur'd by
The body's use, and its necessity.
If here you stop, content with what you need,
With what will keep you warm, your body feed;
Within the bounds of temperance you live.
But if the reins you to your wishes give;
If nature's limits you but once transgress,
You tumble headlong down a precipice
Into a boundless gulph: this we may see
If we pursue our former simile:
For lets suppose your shoe made tight and fit,
Strong, warm, and easy, as 'tis requisite,
What more can be desired from a shoe?
'Tis all that hide, or thread, and wax can do.
But if you look for more, you're hurry'd on
Beyond your bounds, and then 'tis ten to one,
That it must be more modish, pink'd, and wrought,
Then set with pearls, from farthest Indies brought,
Then with embroidery and purple shine;
No matter if 'tis useless, so 'tis fine.
So there's no farther stay, no farther bound
By those, who exceed just measures, to be found.