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Bvt how mist I of Avarice to tell,
Whose longing is as infinite as hell?
There is no Passion that's more vile or base,
And yet as common as to have a face,
I muse it scap't so long, for I'le be plain,
I no where look but there I see it reigne.
In all this spacious Round I know so few
That can this slavish dung-hill vice eschew;
I neither will excuse sex nor degree,
Young folks, nor such as middle-aged be.
Nay, I perceive them given most to crave,
When they had need to dig themselves a grave.
Like earth-bred Moles still scrambling in the dust,
Not for the treasure that shall never rust,
But for vile cankred drosse is all their care,
As if the same their Summum bonum were:
When all that they have with their labour bought
(If well consider'd) is not worth a thought.

I have known Chuffes, that having well to live,
Sufficient also both to lend and give,
Yet nathelesse, toyl, moyl, and take more pain
Than a Iews bond-slave, or a Moore in Spain.

All day they brook the rain, hail, frost and snow,
And then, as if they had not drudg'd enough,
They lie and think all night with care and sorrow,
How they may take as little rest to morrow.
'Tis strange their mindes so much for gold doth itch,
And being gotten, that it should bewitch:
For 'tis by nature in a prison pent,
Vnder our feet i'th basest Element:
And should wee pluck't from dungeon, filth, & mire,
To giv't the chiefest seat in our desire?
'Twere want of judgment; which brave spirits know,
Counting it base with those that prize it so.

I've heard those say that travell to the West
Whence this beloved metall is encreast,
That in the places where such Minerals be,
Is neither grasse, nor herbe, nor plant, nor tree.
And like enough; for this at home I finde
Those who too earnestly employ the minde
About that trash, have hearts (I dare uphold)
As barren as the place where men dig gold.

This humour hath no bounds; 'tis a desire
(Or disease rather) nothing can expire:
'Tis hell, for had it all the world, why yet
'Twould long as much as if't had ne'er awhit;
And I with pitty do lament their pain
Who have this never-quenched thirst of gain;
This ever-gaping whirle-poole, that receives
Still, yet the selfe-same roome still empty leaves.

Hee's mad that food to such a Vulture gives
That's never full: and ev'n as good fill sives.
Or vessells bottomlesse, as still endeavour
To gorge a Monster that will hunger ever.
All that men can perform will be in vain,
And longing will for evermore remain.

Like those foule issues that must still have vent,
Till strength of nature and the life be spent.
It makes men tire themselves like him that drinks
Brine, or salt-water, and still thereby thinks
To slake his thirst, although he feel it more
Augmented at each draught than 'twas before.
Yea, wealth doth as much lessen this desire
Of Avarice in men, as flames of fire
Alay the heat: Besides, though they have store,
This makes them to themselves exceeding poore.
And howsoever they may seem, yet such
Vntill their dying-day are never rich.
They very seldome have respect or care
To promise or religion: they'l not spare
To wrong their neighbour, friend, or God himselfe,
Thereby to adde unto their cursed pelfe.

They neither reverence the right of laws;
Nor are they touched with the poore mans cause.
They could be well content to shed their blouds,
Lose soule and heaven but to save their goods.
To talk to them of better things twere vain,
For they are onely capable of gain.
They never live in true society,
Nor know they friendship, love, or piety.
And in a word those that are thereby led
Never do good till they be sick or dead.
And therfore with those vermine we may place them
That serve us to no use till wee uncase them.
And I've observ'd that such mens children be
Borne many times to greatest miserie.
For they have neither meanes nor education
According to their kindred, state, or nation;
Whereby we see that they do often run
Into vile actions, and are quite undone.

And then perhaps the Parent grieves at this,
But ne'er considers that his fault it is.

'Tis greedinesse that makes a man a slave
To that which for his servant he should have:
And teaches him oft to esteem of more
The vicious Rich-man, than the honest-poore.

How many in the world now could I name
Injurious villaines; that but to defame
Or spight their neighbour, would their God forswear
As if they thought that no damnation were?
(Provided when they thus their conscience strain
It be out of a hatred, or for gain.)
Yea, there be idle theeving drones a many,
That have no vertue (nor will ne'er have any)
That for their wealth shall highly be respected,
When honest men (their betters) are neglected:
And then we also see that most men do
Impose such worthy titles on them too,
That such base scums shall oft intreated be
With, Good your worship, and with cap and knee.

But sure the world is now become a gull
To think such scoundrels can be worshipfull.
For in these dayes, if men have gotten riches,
Though they be Hangmen, Vsurers, or Witches,
Devils-incarnate, such as have no shame
To act the thing that I should blush to name;
Doth that disgrace them any whit? Fie no;
The world ne'er meant to use her Minions so.
There is no shame for Rich-men in these times,
For wealth will serve to cover any crimes.
Wert thou a Crook-back't Dwarfe, deform'd in shape
Thyrsites-like, condition'd like an Ape;
Did'st never do a deed a good man ought,
Nor spake true word, nor hadst an honest thought;

If thou be rich, and hap to disagree
With one that's poore, although indeed he be
In every part a man; and hath a spirit
That's truly noble, worthy well to merit
Ev'n praise of Envy; yet if thou wilt seem
A man far worthier, and of more esteem,
Although thou canst invent no means to blame him,
Yet I can tell a trick how thou shalt shame him:
And that's but this, Report that he is poore,
And there is no way to disgrace him more.
For, so this Passion doth mens judgment blinde,
That him in whom they most perfection finde,
If so he be not rich they count him base;
And oft hee's fain to give a Villain place.

Moreover, the desire to gain this pelfe,
Makes many a brave man to forget himselfe.
Some I have known that for their worthy parts,
Their vertue and their skill in many Arts,
Deserved honour; and (if any can
Iudge by the outward look the inward man)
They to command mē (you would think) were born,
And seem'd a slavish servitude to scorn,
Yet have I seen when such as these (alas!)
In hope of gain have croucht unto an Asse;
Observ'd a Dolt, and much debas'd their merits
To men of vulgar and ignoble spirits.

How many of our finest wits have spent
Their times and studies in meere complement;
Greasing with praises many a fat-fed Bore,
Of whom the world hath thought too well before?
How many now that follow'd Mars his troop,
Whom force of death could never make to stoop?
How many also of our great Divines,
That should seek treasure not in earthly mines,

Descend to basenesse and against the haire
(As goes the common Proverb) can speake faire?
Flatter for gaine and humour such base groomes
As are not wovthy of their horse-boyes roomes?
They wrong themselves: but those are counted wise
That now adaies know how to temporize.
Yet I abhorr'd it ever and I vow;
Ere I to any golden Calfe will bow,
Flatter against my conscience, or else smother
What were to be reveal'd to please another:
Ere I for gaine would fawne upon a Clowne,
Or feed Great fooles with tales of the renowne
Of their reputed fathers, when (God mend them)
Themselves have nothing why we should commend them:
Or e're I'd coine a lie be't ne'er so small,
For e'er a bragging Thraso of them all
In hope of profit: I'd give up my play,
Begin to labor for a groat a day;
In no more cloathing than a mantle goe;
And feed on Sham-rootes, as the Irish doe.
For what contentment can in riches be,
Vnlesse the body and the minde be free?

But tush: what's freedome look where gold beares sway,
It takes all care of what is fit away;
Corrupts the Iudgement and can make the lawes
Oft-times to favour an ungodly cause.

Moreover, worldly men doe so affect,
Where wealth abounds, and beare so much respect
To those that have it, that their vice they deeme
To be a vertue, and so make it seeme.
For, say they use extortion, no men more,
Vndoe their Country, hurt and wrong the poore,
Be such damn'd Vsurers, they keepe a house
That yeelds not crummes enough to feed a Mouse;

Yet they'l not say they are covetous; oh no,
But thrifty and good wary men, or so.

Another though in pride he doth excell;
Be more ambitious than the Prince of Hell;
If his apparell be in part like us,
Italian, Spanish, French and Barbarous;
Although it be of twenty severall fashions,
All borrowed from as many severall Nations;
Yet hee's not vaine nor proud; What is he then?
Marry a proper, fine, neat Gentleman.

Or if there be a Ruffian that can swagger,
Make strange brauadoes, weare an Ale-house-dagger,
Instead of valour, quarrelling professe,
Turne Hospitality to lewd excesse;
Quaffe Soule-sicke healths untill his eies doe stare,
Sing baudy Songs and Rounds, and curse and sweare;
Though he use gaming, as the Cards and Dice,
So out of measure that hee mak't a vice;
Convert his house into a loathsome stewes,
Keep whores and knaves and baudes (and that's no newes)
Yet if he be a rich man, what is he?
A rude ranke Ruffian, if he aske of me.
A Ruffian? Gup Iack-sauce-box with a wannion,
Nay hee's a merry and a boone Companion.
This is the worlds milde Censure. Yet beside,
Another quality I have espide.
For that disease in which they shun the poore,
They doe abhorre a rich man ne'er the more.

Him I have knowne that hath disdain'd to sup
Water or beere out of a poore-mans cup,
For feare of poysoning or some thing as bad,
Although he knew no malady he had;
Yet have I often seene that curious Asse
Pledging a rich-man in the selfe-same glasse,

When he hath knowne the party sweating lie
Of the abhorred French foule malady.
Which proves this Proverbe true; Birds of a feather
Will fearelesse use to flocke and feed together.

But I oft wonder and doe yet admire,
Men hunt for riches with such strange desire.
For being once possest thereof it fils
The owners of it with a thousand ils,
More than they can conceive. For first we finde
It choakes and marres the vertue of the minde.
Then (by much businesse) it brings annoies
Vnto the minde; and hinders truer joyes
From seating there & though some stormes it cleare
It drives men into flouds of greater feare:
That oft the rich are more in sorrow tost,
Than those that have no riches to be lost.

But further over and above all this,
Hence a much greater disadvantage is;
It makes us to grow arrogant, unjust;
Drawes unto pleasure and provokes to lust:
More powerfull in a deed of villanie,
Than helpefull in a worke of honesty.
It ne'er contents the owners that enjoy it;
And those that have it many times imploy it
To corrupt justice, or else to allure
Matrons or Virgins to an act impure.
It hireth murtherers, makes men seditious,
Full of suspect and envy or ambitious:
It breedeth claw-backs, pick-thanks, flattery,
Makes many theeves and causeth perjury.
It hinders knowledge; for most that have lands,
Live neither by their wisdome nor their hands,
But following sloth and pleasure hate the schooles,
To leave much wealth unto a race of fooles.

This is the fruit of riches, which alone
Is now the faire reward that every one
Endevours for; and that which to attaine,
(Or keepe once gotten) none refuseth paine,
Labour nor danger, nay oft men expresse
In the pursute thereof, such earnestnesse,
As if that onely did indeed appeare
The speciall end that they were plac'd for here.

Oh Gold! what mortall god is so divine?
What beauty is there so ador'd as thine?
The fairest creature never so much mov'd,
As that it was of every one belov'd.
The little infant in his cradle lying,
One promise of a penny staies his crying:
Those that in youth for nothing seeme to care,
To keepe thee still their friend, respective are.
Old dotards almost dropt into the grave,
That neither sense of sight nor hearing have
Are by their touching thee preserv'd alive,
And will maintaine thou art restorative.
Fooles that know nothing, know the use of thee,
And for thy sake will oft perswaded be.
The wise men of the World that disapprove
Young mens affections and make scoffes at love;
He, who out of his judgement cals him Asse,
That dotes upon the beauty of a face,
Can play the Idiot twice as much himselfe,
By doting on a heape of duty pelfe.

Nay further, to their conscience I appeale
That seeme nought else almost but faith and Zeale,
Whether with all their show of Sanctity,
They doe not oft commit Idolatry,
And this great Mammon secretly adore:
I feare they doe, and more his helpe implore

Than their Creator's. For this cursed Riches
So much the soule of every man bewitches,
That very oft times they forgetfull be
Of what beseemes profession and degree.

What He, on earth, so great or mighty is,
(Or who so proud) that will not bow to this?
Where's he though Noble that will now disdaine
To be a suter for his private gaine?
See we not those that seem'd to looke more hie,
Turne all their worship to this Deitie?
It is apparant, Great men that were wont
For honour onely, in times past to hunt,
Both pawne and forfeit it for Riches sake:
And they whose glory 'twas to undertake
Such things as might their Country benefit,
Seeke rather now how they may begger it.

What Monopolies, what new tricks can they
Find to increase their profit every day?
What Rascall poling sutes doe they devise,
To adde new Summes unto their Treasuries?
Which had their noble Predecessors sought,
Such meanes of gaine for ever had beene thought
Dishonour, and a staine of Infamie
Enough to taint their whole Posteritie.
And then, beside their ever shamelesse craving,
They oft times also are as basely saving:
And so much doth their avarice abate
Of that becomming and commended state
Which their fore-fathers kept; they would not know them
(If they were living) or for shame not owe them.

Those that have much on Ancient gentry stood,
And will to this day glory in their bloud,
Doe not disdaine (if there be wealth) to grace
With their dear'st issue some ranke peasants rac

Or take himselfe (if there be wealth to wed)
An old Mechanick widdow to his bed.
The childe for this, the parent will undoe:
And parents sell the childs contentment too.
It is of power sufficient to preferre
The untaught sonne of a rude Scavenger,
To some Lords daughter and in twelve-moneths can
Make a known peasant deem'd a Gentleman.
Beare Armes confirm'd, and shew a pedigree
Shall from before the Norman Conquest be.
And in his pride, some one for gentry brave
Vnto whose father, his was sworne a slave.

Nay so much sway the love of gold doth beare,
He that but sonne unto the hangman were,
A noted villaine of as false a heart,
As ever rode to Tyburne in a Cart,
One whom that place had long time groned for,
And all men as earth's scum did most abhorre;
Yet if this rake-hell could but thrive so much
By any villanie, as to be rich
One yeere or two, would not alone agen
Get him more credit than three honest men;
But great ones would salute and speake him faire,
Labour how they might be inscrib'd his heire;
And still observe him so obsequiously,
As if the world within his gift did lie.

Or which is more, he that once scorn'd to see
Himselfe attended, by such groomes as he,
Will yeeld this beast his only child should wed,
And force her peradventure to his bed.
Where spight of Vertue this damn'd ruffian shall
Vnworthily, enjoy a blisse which all
The most deserving of the Land would woe.
(And when he hath her once, despise her too)

But doubtlesse, if he can but at his death,
When he is forc't to leave the world, bequeath
A petty legacy unto the poore;
Somewhat to stay the railing of his whore;
And leave rich heires behind: why then the Asse,
On a faire pile of Marble, Iet and Brasse,
Shall have a Table faire engrav'd, to shew
A Catalogue of Vertues he nere knew.
Thus much can gold performe, and such you see
The goodly fruits of this foule Passion be:
That were there not a greater power which still
A secret judgement heaped on this ill;
It were enough to make all men despise
The love of Vertue, and nought else devise
Save to be rich: which way they soone may finde,
That thereto onely doe apply the minde.

But as herein men often doe amisse,
So are they in the opposite to this;
The Prodigall runs out as farre astray
From this absurdity another way.
And e'en as greedy men are set on fire
With an unquenched and a foule desire
Of hoording Riches (God in heaven amend them)
So doth he strive and hie as fast to spend them.
And as the first in elder folks is stronger,
This raignes most violently in the younger,
Their humors diverse. Some vaine-glorious asses,
Consum't in gaudy cloathes and looking-glasses,
Others blowne up e'en with the selfe same bellowes,
Seeke to obtaine the love of all good-fellowes:
These at the Ale-house have their daily pots,
Though they be there or no, and looke what shots
Are in their presence, spent though ne'er so many
He doth them wrong that thinks to pay a penny.

These feast at Tavernes their supposed friends
That pay with Thanks, We ne'er shall make amends.
Yea, and in more things they have lavish bin;
But those are paths I've no experience in.
Yet such no doubt e're many yeeres be past,
Will wish that they had held their purses fast,
When for their kindnesse and their former cheere,
They hardly shall procure a cup of Beere.
But there must needs be some men borne thereto,
Or how the Divell shall our sharkers doe?

Yet can I not say rightly that these be
From Avarice and greedinesse quite free:
For though they doe consume it knavishly,
And spend on vaine pleasures lavishly,
They gladly would their evill course maintaine,
And therefore over slip no meanes of gaine.

Some have bin forc'd to (through this indiscretion)
Secret and open Robberies, Oppression,
And diuers tricks: which shew the Spending vice
May have a reference to Avarice.

Others there are (but few) who having store,
Neglect their wealth and rather would be poore;
And why? It stops the way to heaven they say:
Sure, being misimploied, so it may.
And therefore rather than they should abuse it,
'Twere good they had it that knew how to use it.
For such are lightly weake in resolution,
And men but of a simple constitution;
Or else by some seducing Villaine taught,
That their goods rather than their good have sought.

Now I suppose the man that well obtaines
His wealth and in an honest calling gaines,
More wisdome shewes in using it aright,
Than such a Cynicke that contemnes it quite:

Men will be in extreames; but sure the lesse
Is to neglect wealth: for much greedinesse
Makes not the body onely leane and foule,
But also spreads infection to his soule,
And clogs her so with things of no account,
That she is over-poiz'd too much to mount.
But those men that doe goe astray are loth,
Must use endeavours to avoide them both.