A jar of cider and my pipe,
  In summer, under shady tree;
A book of one that made his mind
  Live by its sweet simplicity:
Then must I laugh at kings who sit
  In richest chambers, signing scrolls;
And princes cheered in public ways,
  And stared at by a thousand fools.

Let me be free to wear my dreams,
  Like weeds in some mad maiden's hair,
When she doth think the earth has not
  Another maid so rich and fair;
And proudly smiles on rich and poor,
  The queen of all fair women then:
So I, dressed in my idle dreams,
  Will think myself the king of men.