"Tis pleasant, sure, to see one's name in honest poverty, that avarice reigns most in

EFFECT OF.
But the base miser starves amidst his store, IMPLACABLE.
Broods on his gold, a griping still at more,
Sits sadly pining, and believes he's poor.

Dryden.

INSATIABILITY OF.
Avarice is insatiable, and is always push-
ing on for more.
L'Estrange.
LUST OF.

The lust of avarice has so totally seized upon mankind, that their wealth seems rather to possess them than they possess their wealth. Pliny. And in his lap a masse of coyne he told And turned upside down, to feede his eye And covetous desire with his huge treasury. Spenser. Poverty is in want of much, but avarice of everything. Publius Syrus. MADNESS of.

Some o'erenamour'd of their bags run mad,
Groan under gold, yet weep for want of
bread.
Young.

MISTAKE Of.

Extreme avarice is nearly always mistaken; there is no passion which is oftener further away from its mark, nor upon which the present has so much power to the prejudice of the future. La Rochefoucauld.

OPPOSED TO RELIGION.

Why Mammon sits before a million hearths
Where God is bolted out from every house.

POVERTY OF.

Bailey.

AVERSION

As well the noble savage of the field
Might tamely couple with the fearful ewe;
Tigers might engender with the timid deer;
Wild, muddy boars defile the cleanly er-
mine,

Or vultures sort with doves; as I with thee.
Lee.

skill

Of moving gracefully, or standing still,
One leg, as if suspicious of his brother,
Desirous seems to run away from t'other.
Churchill.

NOT ALTERED BY CIRCUMSTANCES.
Not all the pumice of the polish'd town
Avarice is always poor, but poor by her Can smooth the roughness of the barnyard

own fault.

Johnson.

clown;

Rich, honor'd, titled, he betrays his race
By this one mark-he's awkward in his face.
Holmes.

POWER OF.

force their wretched souls To crouch for profit; nay, for trash and wealth. John Ford. STRANGENESS OF.

TO GRIND.

'Tis strange the miser should his cares employ

Pope.

AXE.

To gain those riches he can ne'er enjoy.

WHAT IT IS.

The love of gold that meanest rage,
And latest folly of man's sinking age,
Which, rarely venturing in the van of life,
While nobler passions wage their heated

strife,

Comes skulking last with selfishness and fear

When I see a merchant over-polite to his customer, begging them to take a little brandy, and throwing his goods on the counter, thinks I, that man has an axe to grind. Franklin, (Poor Richard.)

BABBLER.

WASTES WORDS.

And dies collecting lumber in the rear!

Moore.

Fie! what a spendthrift he is of his tongue!
Shakespeare.

Whose sons lie scatter'd on the bleeding OF A YOUTH.