Go miser go, for money sell your soul. Trade wares for wares and trudge from pole to pole, So others may say when you are dead and gone. See what a vast estate he left his son.
Sweet is pleasure after pain.
Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!
But wild Ambition loves to slide, not stand, And Fortune's ice prefers to Virtue's land.
The love of liberty with life is given, And life itself the inferior gift of Heaven.
Bets at first were fool-traps, where the wise like spiders lay in ambush for the flies.