Classic Poem

Gold is, as you say, and as most Men find,
The bright deluding Mistress of Mankind;
Which, but like other Mistresses,
Design'd but for Man's Pleasure, Quiet, Ease,
Is but the worst Disturber of his Peace;
Like an Inconstant Jilt, a Foe to Sleep,
Hard to part with, and harder yet to keep,
Bright Mistress! whom all Old Men doat on most,
Ev'n when they most the Use of it have lost;
Hard, like all Shining Beauties, to be gain'd,
More by Men's Industry, than Wit obtain'd;
Like most Bright Beauties, kept with Privacy,
To rob its Keeper of Tranquillity;
Kept, to secure, for Life, his Peace and Joy,
Which them does most by his own Care destroy;
For Cares design'd the Sov'reign Remedy,
Yet them does for its Keeper multiply,
Whose Love for it, begets its Jealousie;
Like all Bright Jilts, does most dishonour them,
Who for it show most Passion and Esteem;
And like most Shining Beauties, does think fit,
To run to Rich Fools, from Poor Men of Wit;
Tho' like them, it Man's Pleasure can but grow,
But when, for others, he parts with it too;
For whilst that it its Jealous Friend does keep,
It takes away his Quiet, Fame, and Sleep;
Since Gold kept up, but like each kept-up Dame,
If not, his Friend's Enjoyment is his Blame,
If not, his Ease, or Credit, Pain or Shame.