To be moderate in good fortune is the part of a good Gamester, when Reputation lies at stake. A brave Retreat is as great as a brave Enterprise. When one hath acted great exploits, he ought to secure the glory of them, by drawing off in time.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

Leave off the game with fortune while you are in luck. -- That is what all the best players do. A fine retreat is worth just as much as a gallant attack. Let a man bring his deeds, when there are a great many and enough of them into safety.
[tr. Duff (1877)]

Leave your Luck while Winning. All the best players do it. A fine retreat is as good as a gallant attack. Bring your exploits under cover when there are enough, or even when there are many of them.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

Quit while you're ahead. All the best gamblers do. A fine retreat matters as much as a stylish attack. As soon as they are enough -- even when they are many -- cash in your deeds.
[tr. Maurer (1992)]

He that hath once sufficient, let him wishe for no more:
Not howse nor grove, nor yet of gould, or silver ample store
Can rid the owners crasie corpes fro fellon shaking fever.
Nor can the mynd of man from carke, (for al their vigor) sever:
That owner needes must healthfull bee, and other men excel,
Which hauing riches competent, doth cast to use theim well.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

Let him that has enough, desire no more.
Not House and Land, nor Gold and Silver Oare,
The Body's sickness, or the Mind's dispel,
To rellish wealth, the palat must be well.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]

He that hath got enough desires no more:
Did ever Lands, or heaps of Silver ease
The feav'rish Lord? Or cool the hot Disease?
Or free his Mind from Cares? He must have health,
He must be well, that would enjoy his wealth.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

Blest with a competence, why wish for more?
Nor house, nor lands, nor heaps of labour'd ore
Can give their feverish lord one moment's rest,
Or drive one sorrow from his anxious breast:
The fond possessor must be blest with health,
Who rightly means to use his hoarded wealth.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Nathless who's rich, that is not satisfied? --
Who poor, but he whose wants are unsupplied?
Never did house, or land, or god afford
An hour's short respite to their sickening lord,
Sooth with soft balm the fever's throbbing smart,
Or pluck one rooted sorrow from the heart.
If health be wanting, riches quickly cloy;
'Tis vain to hoard, unless we can enjoy.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

He, that has got a competency, let him wish for no more. Not a house and farm, nor a heap of brass and gold, can remove fevers from the body of their sick master, or cares from his mind. The possessor must be well, if he thinks of enjoying the things which he has accumulated.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

Having got
What will suffice you, seek no happier lot.
Not house or grounds, not heaps of brass or gold
Will rid the frame of fever's heat and cold.
Or cleanse the heart of care. He needs good health,
Body and mind, who would enjoy his wealth.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

If you've enough, how vain to wish for more!
Nor house, nor lands, nor brass, nor golden store
Can of its fire the fevered frame relieve,
Or make the care-fraught spirit cease to grieve.
Sound, mind and body both, should be his health
To true account who hopes to turn his wealth.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

If a sufficiency belong to any one, let him desire no more. A house and farm, a heap of brass and gold, have never removed fever from the sickly body of their possessor, nor cares from his mind. It is a necessity that their owner be sound in body and mind if he contemplate making a good use of his accumulated substance.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

But after all, enough is enough, and he who has enough is wise if he does not ask for more. A house, a farm, and a store of gold, these never drove the fever from their owner's aching body, or took the burden of care from his mind. Verily, the man of wealth must have good health if he would enjoy the fruit of all his labors.
[tr. Dana/Dana (1911)]

He, to whose lot sufficient falls, should covet nothing more. No house or land, no pile of bronze or god, has ever freed the owner's sick body of fevers, or his sick mind of cares. The possessor must be sound in health, if he thinks of enjoying the stores he has gathered.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

But anyone who has enough should want no more.
No house and farm, no heap of copper and gold
can drive a fever from its owner's weakened flesh
Or his worries from his soul. He must be well
if he wants good use from everything he's gathered.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

But having enough we should never want more. No house
In town, no land, no piles of gold and bronze,
Have ever freed a man's mind, or eased the fevers
Racking his body. To enjoy treasure you must be sound
In mind, stable in body.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]

The man who has enough should be satisfied
With what he has. Prosperity is never
Going to be able to cure a body that's sick
Or a mind that's sick. You've got to be well if you want
To enjoy the things you own.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

But when one is blest with enough, one shouldn't long for more.
Possessing a house or farm or a pile of bronze and gold
has never been known to expel a fever from an invalid's body
or a worry from his mind. Unless the owner has sound health
he cannot hope to enjoy the goods he has brought together.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

But he who’s handed enough, shouldn’t long for more.
Houses and land, piles of bronze and gold, have never
Freed their owner’s sick body from fever, or his spirit
From care: if he wants to enjoy the goods he’s gathered
Their possessor must be well.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

An hart the better chevalier as it came then to passe
Did chase an horse that fed with him from eating of the grasse.
The tryumpher after that he was parted from his foe
The man from backe, the bitt from mouthe he could not rid them fro.
So, he that feareth povertie his fredom cannot houlde.
Fredome, better then mettells all better then choysest goulde.
That foole shall beare in dede a Lorde, and lyve a dayly thrall,
For that he will not knowe to use and lyve upon a small.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

The Stagg superior both in Arms and Force,
Out of the Common-Pasture drove the Horse:
Untill the vanquish'd after a long fight
Pray'd Man's assistance, and receiv'd the Bit:
But, having beat the Victor, could not now
Bit from his Mouth, nor Man from his Back throw.
So He that fearing Poverty, hath sold
Away his Liberty; better then Gold,
Shall carry a proud Lord upon his back,
And serve for ever, 'cause he could not lack.
[tr. Fanshawe; ed. Brome (1666)]

Both fed together, till with injur'ous force,
The stoutest Deer expell'd the weaker Horse:
He beaten, flyes to Man to right his Cause,
Begs help, and takes the Bridle in his Jaws.
Yet tho He Conquer'd, tho He rul'd the Plain,
He bore the Rider still, and felt the Rein.
Thus the mean Wretch, that fearing to be poor,
Doth sell his Liberty for meaner Ore:
Must bear a Lord, He must be still a Slave,
That cannot use the little Nature gave.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

A lordly stag, arm'd with superior force,
Drove from their common field a vanquisht horse,
Who for revenge to man his strength enslav'd,
Took up his rider, and the bitt received:
But, though he conquer'd in the martial strife,
He felt his rider's weight, and champt the bitt for life.
So he, who poverty with horror views,
Nor frugal nature's bounty knows to use;
Who sells his freedom in exchange for gold
(Freedom for mines of wealth too cheaply sold),
Shall make eternal servitude his fate,
And feel a haughty master's galling weight.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

It chanced that after many a well-fought bout
The Stag contrived to put the Horse to rout;
'Till, from his pasture driven, the foe thought fit
To ask the aid of man and took the bit.
He conquer'd; but, his triumph o'er, began
To find he could shake off nor bit nor man.
such is the fate of him who, if he please,
Might rest in humble competence and ease,
Yet through the dread of penury has sold
That independence which surpasses gold.
Henceforth he'll serve a tyrant for his pains,
And stand or budge as avarice pulls the reins.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

The stag, superior in fight, drove the horse from the common pasture, till the latter, worsted in the long contest, implored the aid of man and received the bridle; but after he had parted an exulting conqueror from his enemy, he could not shake the rider from his back, nor the bit from his mouth. So he who, afraid of poverty, forfeits his liberty, more valuable than mines, avaricious wretch, shall carry a master, and shall eternally be a slave, for not knowing how to use a little.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

The stag was wont to quarrel with the steed,
Nor let him graze in common on the mead:
The steed, who got the worst in each attack,
Asked help from man, and took him on his back:
But when his foe was quelled, he ne'er got rid
Of his new friend, still bridled and bestrid.
So he who, fearing penury, loses hold
Of independence, better far than gold,
Will toil, a hopeless drudge, till life is spent,
Because he'll never, never learn content.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

Once on a time a stag, at antlers' point,
Expelled a horse he'd worsted, from the joint
Enjoyment of the pasture both had cropped:
Still, when he ventured near it, rudely stopped.
The steed called in man's aid, and took the bit:
Thus backed, he charged the stag, and conquered it.
But woe the while! nor rider, bit, nor rein
Could he shake off, and be himself again.
So he who, fearing poverty, hath sold
His freedom, better than uncounted gold.
Will bear a master and a master's laws.
And be a slave unto the end, because
He will not learn, what fits him most to know.
How far, discreetly used, small means will go.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

The stag, being the more powerful animal in fight, was accustomed to drive off the horse from the open pasture until the latter, feeling his inferiority, after a protracted contest, implored the help of man, and received the rein. But after that, a revengeful victor, he had left his foe he threw not off the rider from his back nor the bit from his mouth. In a like manner the man who, through a dread of a small income, possesses not freedom -- preferable to metallic treasure -- will, basely, carry a master and yield him perpetual servitude, because he knows not how to enjoy a little.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

The stag could best the horse in fighting and used to drive him from their common pasture, until the loser in the long contest begged the help of man and took the bit. But after that, in overweening triumph, he parted from his foe, he did not dislodge the rider from his back or the bit from his mouth. So he who through fear of poverty forfeits liberty, which is better than mines of wealth, will in his avarice carry a master, and be a slave for ever, not knowing how to live on little.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

The stag, victorious in fight, in course
Drove from the common pasturage the horse,
Until the horse, at last forced to submit,
Called in the help of man and took the bit;
But, when he had subdued his foe by force,
The rider from his back he couldn't divorce,
Nor from his mouth the bit. So, if in dread
Of Want, wone has one's freedom forfeited --
Freedom more precious than a mine outspread --
A master he will carry for his greed,
And always be a slave, because in deed
He knows not how to make a little do.
[tr. A. F. Murison (1931); ed. Kraemer, Jr (1936)]

The stag, in time past, could drive
The horse from the feeding ground, and beat him in fighting,
Until the perpetual loser came crying to man
To ask for his help, and accepted the bit. Then the horse
Fought the stag once again to a bitter conclusion, and won.
He walked off and left his foe, but now couldn’t shake
The bit from his mouth or the rider down from his back.
So one who, fearing poverty, loses the liberty
That is worth even more than a gold mine will carry a master,
And cravenly slave for another, simply because
He can't subsist on a little.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

A stag battled a horse for the best grass in a field
And kept on winning until the loser in that long war
approached a man to beg his help, and took the bit.
But when it had won the bloody clash and routed its foe,
it could neither shake out the bit nor shake off the rider.
Anyone so scared of poverty he'd rather lose his freedom
than his mines is such a fool he bears a rider, a master
he'll obey forever, since he never learned to live on little.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

The stag was a better fighter than the horse
And often drove him out of their common pasture,
Until the horse, the loser, asked man's help
And acquiesced in taking the bit in his mouth.
But after his famous victory in this battle
He couldn't get the rider off his back
And he couldn't get the bit out of his mouth.
The man who'se afraid to be poor and therefore gives
His liberty away, worth more than gold,
Will carry a master on his back and be
A slave forever, not knowing how to live
On just a little.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

The stag, being stronger than the horse, drove him away from the pasture
they shared, until, having had the worse of the age-old struggle,
the horse turned for help to man, and accept the bit.
But after routing his enemy and leaving the field in triumph
he never dislodged the rider from his back or the bit from his mouth.
So the man who, in fear of poverty, forgoes his independence
(a thing more precious than metals) has the shame of carrying a master;
he's a slave for life, as he will not make the best of a little.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

The stag could always better the horse in conflict,
And drive him from open ground, until the loser
In that long contest, begging man’s help, took the bit:
Yet, disengaged from his enemy, as clear victor,
He couldn’t shed man from his back, the bit from his mouth.
So the perverse man who forgoes his freedom, worth more
Than gold, through fear of poverty, suffers a master
And is a slave forever, by failing to make much
Of little.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

• "A sensible man takes pleasure in what he has instead of pining for what he has not." [tr. Bakewell (1907)]
• "The right-minded man is he who is not grieved by what he has not, but enjoys what he has." [tr. Freeman (1948)]
• "A man of sound judgement is not grieved by what he does not possess but rejoices in what he does possess." [tr. Barnes (1987)]
• "A sensible man does not grieve for what he has not, but enjoys what he has." [Source]

And he that is full & replete of all the studyes & werkys perteynent to every age he is replete and wery of the tyme of this life so that he doubte not in no wise the deth as it seemyth me rightfully & as I preve it by my self. And note ye for a good advertisement to every man for to bere in remembraunce and for his prouffite. That certayne thyngys be wherin pueryce callid childhode which is the seconde age puttith his studye and his entendyng in thynges accordyng to his agrement. And the adolescente men whiche be undir the thidd age desyren in no wise the thynges and the besynes wherin puerice studyeth and occupyeth. And certeyne thynges be wherin the men studyen & occupyen them in begynnyng of their adolescencye. Also certayne thynges be in whiche yong age whiche is the fourth & the mene age puttith not his studye & besynesse in his precedent ages though the man had employed & occupied hym in the othir first ages which be smaller and of lesse degree. Yong age is callid the age stable & meane by cause that it holdith the meane betwixt adolescence & olde age And cesseth than the man for to do lighe thynges and folyes And as theene or nevir the man is stable & hole in body in witt & undirstōding the thynges and the werkys in whiche yong men studyen and occupye them been suche that olde men rek nevir of it. But namely olde age hath delectacyon in some thynges in his laste dayes wheryn he studyeth and employeth his wittys. How be it thenne that the studyes and the werkys of the fyve first ages dyen and seace in some tyme and seasons they in suche wise seacen and dyen in the besynesse studyes and the werkys of olde age whiche when they lacken in the man than he whiche is full and wery for to lyve in this worlde cometh to that tyme whiche is ripe and covenable for to dye.
[tr. Worcester/Worcester/Scrope (1481)]

But, methinks, satiety of all things causeth satiety of life. There are some fantastical and childish plays wherst young children in their childhood delight to play; shall, therefore, young men and tall fellows addict themselves to the same sembably? There are some exercises and affection swherein youthly years to enure themselves: shall the ripe and constant age (which si called the middle age of man) look to play at the same? And if this middle age there are some studies, wills, and appetites which old age careth not for. And there be some studies and exercises belonging and appropriate to old age . And therefore as the pleasure and delight of the studies and exercises in fresher and lustier ages doth in time wear away and come to an end, so doth the studies of old age in continuance and tract of time also die and vanish. And when this pleasuyre and delightful contentation begin in old men once to decrease, then doth satiety of life bring to them a convenable and mature time to die.
[tr. Newton (1569)]

Truly me thinks that the satiety of all things makes also a satiety of life. There are certain studies in children, shall young men desire them? there are others in youth, shall age require them? and there be studies in the last age: therefore as the studies of former ages fail, so do the studies of old age, so that when the satiety or fulnesse of life commeth, it bringeth also a fit time for death.
[tr. Austin (1648), ch. 21]

Satiety from all things else doth come,
Then life must to it self grow wearisome.
Those Trifles wherein Children take delight,
Grow nauseous to the young man's appetite,
And from those gaieties our youth requires,
To exercise their minds, our age retires.
And when the last delights of Age shall die,
Life in it self will find satietie.
[tr. Denham (1669)]

There are in every Stage of Life, peculiar Pleasures and Diversions, in the Pursuit of which we are employed. And as, when Boys, we are tired with such things, as pleased our Infant State, and, when advanced to a riper Age, we still grow weary of our former Diversions; so Old Age itself has its peculiar Enjoyments. Therefore, as all the several Delights, of all our different Ages, decay and grow insipid, those f our latest Years will likewise fail, and make us loath and reject them, till at last, well satisfied with Length of Days, we fall our selves, ass if it were full ripe, and fit to drop into another World.
[tr. Hemming (1716)]

'Tis a Rule with me, That the Fulness of all Things makes the Fullness of Life. Children have their Desires; must young people have the same? In some certain Studies delight Youth, must the Middle-aged too require the same? The Middle-aged have their Foibles; but they are not pursued by the Old; but Old Age has also its favourite Amusements of some Sort of other; and as the Studies of former Ages fall off from us, so do those of our Old Age at last fail us: And when that happens, then the fullness of Life brings on the fit and seasonable Moment for Death.
[tr. J. D. (1744)]

By living long we come to a Satiety in all things besides and this should naturally lead us to a Satiety of Life itself. Children we see have their particular Diversions; and does Youth, when past Childhood, pursue or desire the same? Youth also has its peculiar Exercises; and does full Manhood require these as before? Or has Old Age the same Inclinations that prevailed in more vigorous Years? We ought then to conclude, That as there is a Succession of Pursuits and Pleasures in the several Stages of Life, the one dying away, as the other advances and takes Place; so in the same Manner are those of Old Age to pass off in their Turn. And when this Satiety of Life has fully ripen'd us, we are then quietly to lie down in Death, as our last Resting-Place, where all Anxiety ends, and Cares and Fears subsist no more.
[tr. Logan (1744)]

The distaste with which, in passing through the several stages of our present being, we leave behind us the respective enjoyments peculiar to each; must necessarily, I should think, in the close of its latest period, render life itself no longer desirable. Infancy and youth, manhood and old age, have each of them their peculiar and appropriate pursuits. But does youth regret the toys of infancy, or manhood lament that no longer as a taste for the amusements of youth? The season of manhood has also its suitable objects, that are exchanged for others in old age; and these too, like all the preceding, become languid and insipt in their turn. Now when this state of absolute satiety is at length arrived; when we have enjoyed the satisfactions peculiar to old age, till we have no longer any relish remaining for them; it is then that death may justly be considered as a mature an seasonable event.
[tr. Melmoth (1773)]

In every view of it, as seems to me at least, a satiety of all pursuits produces satiety of life. Doubtless there are pursuits peculiar to boyhood; do then young men long for these? There are also pursuits proper to commencing adolescence; does that time of olife which is now settled, and is called middle-age, require them? There are also pursuits that belong to this latter period; those even are not sought after by old age. There are also certain pursuits of old age, which are the last; therefore as the pursuits of the former stages cease, so also to those of old age. And when this has come to pass, satiety of life brings on the ripe time of death.
[Cornish Bros. ed. (1847)]

On the whole, as it seems to me indeed, a satiety of all pursuits causes a satiety of life. There are pursuits peculiar to boyhood; do therefore young men regret the loss of them? There are also some of early youth; does that now settled age, which is called middle life, seek after these? There are also some of this period; neither are they looked for by old age. There are some final pursuits of old age; accordingly, as the pursuits of the earlier parts of life fall into disuse, so also do those of old age; and when this has taken place, satiety of life brings on the seasonable period of death.
[tr. Edmonds (1874)]

In fine, satiety of life, as it seems to me, creates satiety of pursuits of every kind. There are certain pursuits belonging to boyhood; do grown-up young men therefore long for them? There are others appertaining to early youth; are they required in the sedate period of life which we call middle age? This, too, has its own pursuits, and they are not sought in old age. As the pursuits of earlier periods of life fail, so in like manner do those of old age. When this period is reached, satiety of life brings a season ripe for death.
[tr. Peabody (1884)]

As a general truth, as it seems to me, it is weariness of all pursuits that creates weariness of life. There are certain pursuits adapted to childhood: do young men miss them? There are others suited to early manhood: does that settled time of life called "middle age" ask for them? There are others, again, suited to that age, but not looked for in old age. There are, finally, some which belong to old age. Therefore, as the pursuits of the earlier ages have their time for disappearing, so also have those of old age. And when that takes place, a satiety of life brings on the ripe time for death.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1895)]

To put it in a word, it seems to me
'Tis weariness of all pursuits that makes
A weary age. We have pursuits as boys,
Do young men want them? Others yet there are
Suited to growing years, are they required
By those who've reached what's termed "the middle age"?
That too enjoys its own, but are they fit
For us old me? We have our own of course,
And as the others end, just so do ours,
And when it happens, weariness of life
Proclaims that ripeness which precedes our death.
[tr. Allison (1916)]

Undoubtedly, as it seems to me at least, satiety of all pursuits causes satiety of life. Boyhood has certain pursuits: does youth yearn for them? Early youth has its pursuits: does the matured or so-called middle stage of life need them? Maturity, too, has such as are not even sought in old age, and finally, there are those suitable to old age. Therefore as the pleasures and pursuits of the earlier periods of life fall away, so also do those of old age; and when that happens man has his fill of life and the time is ripe for him to go.
[tr. Falconer (1923)]

From a more general point of view, it seems to me that once we have had our fill of all the things that have engaged our interest, we have had our fill of life itself. There are interests that are proper to childhood: does a full-grown man regret their loss? There are interests that belong to early manhood: when we reach full maturity -- what is called “middle age” -- do we look back to them with longing? Middle age itself has its special concerns; even these have lost their attraction for the old. Finally, there are interests peculiar to old age; these fall away, too, just as did those of the earlier years. When this has happened, a sense of the fullness of life tells us that it is time to die.
[tr. Copley (1967)]

When we are children, we have childish interests, but do young men miss them? And when we are middle-aged, do we want what young men want? Similarly, old men are not remotely involved in the needs of middle age; they have their own. Therefore we may argue that as the concerns of each earlier stage of life fade away, so eventually do those of old age. And when that happens, we have had enough of life and we are ready for death.
[tr. Cobbold (2012)]

Then too, I think I can safely say that when the point arrives where you have had enough of life's pursuits -- this isn't boredom but more a fullness or satisfaction -- then you have also had enough of life. There are certain pursuits of childhood which teenagers don't miss, do they? And stable, middle aged adults don't go running after the pursuits of teens, do they? And there are some interests of our middle years. therefore, just as we do not fear or regret when the pursuits of earlier stages fall away, so too the thinking person does not regret the passing of the interests of old age. And when this happens, the fullness of life brings about the time which is ripe for death.
[tr. Gerberding (2014)]

The fulfilment of all desires,
At least it seems to me, kills all life’s bliss,
And childhood certainly requires
Interests that young people do not miss,
And the tastes of youth’s initial stage
Won’t be sought after in middle age
Whose pursuits seem to be cheerless
To those in their elderliness.
Therefore as the previous life’s urges
Will set like the Sun so will old age’s.
Once life has had its fill there comes the day
On which one may suitably pass away.
[tr. Bozzi (2015)]

Let there be a garden in your Librarie, it is no matter for the rest.
[tr. Webbe (1620)]

As your library is situated in your garden, I shall want nothing to complete my two favorite amusements; reading and walking.
[tr. Melmoth (1753), 8.14]

If you have a garden in your library, everything will be complete.
[tr. Shuckburgh (1899), # 464]

If you have a kitchen garden in your library we shall lack for nothing.
[tr. Shackleton Bailey (1978), # 180]

If you have a garden in your library, you’ve got it all.
[tr. @sentantiq (2011)]

Do waye therefore thy practysde plaintes, bemone thy selfe no more.
For he that hath the use of goodes, cannot be judged poore.
If that thy bellie, sydes, and féete, and all thy partes be well,
Not wealth of kinges can adde to owght that doth this wealth excell.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

Therefore leave off complaining that thou'rt poor:
For he's not poor, whom fortune does produce,
What e're is necessary for his use.
If thou canst get good Diet, and warm Cloaths,
Caesars Estate can't give thee more than those.
[tr. A. B.; ed. Brome (1666)]

My Friend complain no more,
He that hath things for use is never poor.
If Thou hast cleanly Food and Cloaths enough,
What more than this can kingly Wealth bestow?
[tr. Creech (1684)]

The cease complaining, friend, and learn to live.
He is not poor to whom kind Fortune grants,
Even with a frugal hand, what Nature wants.
Are you with food, and warmth, and raiment blest?
Not royal treasures are of more possest.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Hush then vain murmurs -- throw complaint aside!
He ne'er is poor, whose wants are well supplied.
Possess'd of health and food and raiment, know
Arabia's treasures can no more bestow.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

Away with complaints! for that man is by no means poor, who has the use or everything, he wants. If it is well with your belly, your back, and your feet, regal wealth can add nothing greater.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

A truce to murmuring: with another's store
To use at pleasure, who shall call you poor?
Sides, stomach, feet, if these are all in health,
What more could man procure with princely wealth?
[tr. Conington (1874)]

No more complaining, friend! for poor
That man is not who can insure
Whate'er for life is needful found.
Let your digestion be but sound.
Your side unwrung by spasm or stitch.
Your foot unconscious of a twitch,
And could you be more truly blest,
Though of the wealth of kings possessed?
[tr. Martin (1881)]

Away with complaining -- for he is not a poor man who has a sufficiency for every need. If you have health in your stomach, your side, and your feet, the riches of kings can give you nothing superior.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

So stop complaining! The man is certainly not poor
Who has everything that he needs. A king’s own ransom
Can’t add a bit more, if your stomach and lungs
And feet are all right.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

He is not poor who has enough of things to use.
If it is well with your belly, chest and feet,
the wealth of kings can give you nothing more.
[Bartlett's (1968)]

Stop complaining.
No one is a pauper who has all the things he needs.
If your belly's good and your lungs and feet are healthy,
no royal treasure could add the slightest bit to yours.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

Stop complaining!
No one is poor who has enough of all he needs.
If your belly is full and your health is good and your feet
Don’t hurt, why would an emperor’s wealth be worth having?
[tr. Raffel (1983) "Ixus"]

No one is poor who can use whatever he has.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

No more complaining!
The man who enjoys the use of commodities isn’t poor.
If stomach, chest, and feet are in good condition, then kings
with all their wealth can add nothing of greater value.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

Stop complaining:
He’s not poor whose enjoyment of things suffices.
If your lungs, stomach and feet are healthy, royal
Wealth can add nothing.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

This is it why very selde we fynde
A man so cloyed with the worlde as he that new hathe dynde
Is with his meate and that thers none which in their extreame dayes
Will parte from lyfe as full from feast to goe theyr homewarde wayes
[tr. Drant (1567)]

And hence it comes, we seldome find a man
That sayes He has liv'd happily, and can
Like a well-feasted-guest depart at last
Contented with that part of 's life that past.
[tr. A. B.; ed. Brome (1666)]

Hence 'tis scarce any thinks his state is blest,
Nor when Death calls like a contented Guest
Will rise from Life, and lay him down to rest.
[tr. Creech (1684)]

From hence, how few, like sated guests, depart
From life's full banquet with a cheerful heart!
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Hence few are found, who dying can declare
That theirs was comfort unalloy'd with care;
Or, rising from life's banquet, quit their seat,
Like cheerful guests, contented with the treat.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

Hence it is, that we rarely find a man who can say he has lived happy, and content with his past life, can retire from the world like a satisfied guest.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

And so it is that seldom can we find a man
to say he has lived happily, and to quit life
as sated guests can quit the feast, well pleased
with all the time he spent in it.
[tr. Millington (1870)]

Thus it comes that seldom can we find one who says he has had a happy life, and who, when his time is sped, will quit life in contentment, like a guest who has had his fill.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

So it is
That you rarely find someone who admits to having been happy
With the time allotted him, who admits that he has lived well
And lived right and is ready to leave, like one who gets up
From a banquet.
[tr. Palmer Bovie (1959)]

That's why we rarely find anyone who admits he's led
a happy life and is prepared to leave it, pleased
with the time he spent, like a guest after a good dinner.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

And therefore it’s hard
To find a man so happy with his life
That he’s ready to leave what he’s thoroughly enjoyed,
Like a guest who’s had all he could want.
[tr. Raffel (1983)]

Hence it happens
that rarely can we find anyone who
admits having lived happily and now,
content with how he hasa spent his years,
retires from the banquet like a satiated guest.
[tr. Alexander (1999)]

No wonder it’s rare that one of them will claim
a happy life or, when that life’s sped past him,
resign like a thankful guest who’s eaten well.
[tr.. Matthews (2002)]

So it is that we can rarely find a man who says
he has lived a happy life and who, when his time is up,
contentedly leaves the world like a guest who has had his fill.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

So we can rarely find a man who claims to have lived
A happy life, who when his time is done is content
To go, like a guest at the banquet who is well sated.
[tr. Kline (2015)]