“
Misers are evil people,
— Misers
Misers are evil people,
And were it not that they are loath to lay out money on a rope, they would be hanged forthwith, and sometimes die to save charges.
A mere madness, to live like a wretch, and die rich.
Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill;Yet still he sighs, for hoards are wanting still.
His heart is like a maggot-eaten nut:There's nothing in it ; but 'tis closely shut.
The unsunn'd heapsOf miser's treasures.
He sat among his bags, and, with a lookSorest of evils!—died of utter want.
'Tis strange the miser should his cares employHis wealth to purchase what he ne'er can taste?
Decrepit miser; base, ignoble wretch;I am descended of a gentler blood.
If I knew a miser, who gave up every kind of comfortable living, all the pleasure of doing good to others, all the esteem of his fellow-citizens, and the joys of benevolent friendship, for the sake of accumulating wealth, Poor man, said I, you pay too much for your whistle.
