Neminem sors continet sua.

Nobody is restrained by his own circumstances.

Nemo sua potis est contentus vivere sorte,
Alterius semper fortunam laudat abundè.[1]
Illiusque locum petit, ac lucrarier optat.
Caecum odium proprii, quid non mortalia cogit
Pectora? quas curas praeter rem una ingerit hora?
Mercator levibus tentatus fortè periclis,
Miles, ait, potior: cur non mage castra sequamur?
Belli pertaesus nummosas[2] praedicat arcas,
Agricolam docti, quos magna negotia vexant,
  Link to an image of this page  [F6v p92]Gramineas iactantque casas, victumque modestum.
Hi contrà laesi, cùm iurgia dira fatigant,
Vel caelo segetes tanguntur, moenibus omnes
Felices clamant, & iugera parva queruntur.
Quod si caelestes illorum vota, phrenesim
Audirent, rueret subito in contraria vulgus.
Iidem eadem reprobant, properis mutantur & horis.
Sed Deus omnipotens deceat quid quemque paravit:
Nec furor, aut stultus leges diis ponere quaerat.
Naturam paucis reficis, nec dives egeno
Plus habet: excruciat qui se mercator ad Indos,
Non adeò fruitur partis, nec praemia grata,
Sint maiora licèt, quàm cura domestica portat.
Pignore sylvestris mites superat quoque pomos.
Caprificus cumulat ficus, non illa sapore
Sed tamen has aequat, cultus quas educat hortus.
Tu, quodcunque venit divino munere, lauda,
Craesus an Irus eris non te coqueat:[3] omnia praeter
Quàm pietas Christi, vanescent pulvere in auras.

Nobody can live content with his destiny; one always profusely praises someone else’s fortune. His position one seeks and profit is what one wants to acquire. Blind self-hate, what does it not compel human souls to do? Which worries does one hour heap on, besides the reality? A merchant, troubled by chance with fickle perils says “I’m better qualified to be a soldier: why do we not join the army instead?” Disgusted with war, he [i.e. the soldier] praises coffers full of money; scholars, who are plagued by big problems, praise the farmer, glorifying their turf cottages and modest lifestyle. These, conversely, vexed because lawsuits are assailing them, or their corn fields are hit by heaven, call all those within the city walls happy, and complain about their mean fields. If the gods would hear the prayers of these men - sheer madness - people would immediately dive into the opposite job. The same people would then reject the same jobs and change hastily from hour to hour. However, God almighty has provided what is suitable for each. Let no raging or stupid man [lit. ‘let rage/fury nor a stupid man’] try to lay down laws for the gods. You can restore your nature with few means, nor has the rich more than the poor. The merchant who goes to India tortures himself and does not enjoy his role so much, and his rewards are not pleasant, even though they are bigger than his worry for home. In offspring, the wild appletree even beats cultivated apples. The wild fig tree amasses figs, but in taste does not match the ones that a tilled garden breeds. You, praise whatever comes by way of divine gift; let it not excite you whether you’ll be a Croesus [extremely wealthy] or an Irus [impoverished]: everything, except the piety of Christ, will vanish with the dust in the air.