Quotes About Wealth

Foul cankering rust the hidden treasure frets, But gold that's put to use more gold begets.

The wealthy curled darlings of our nation.

No; let the candied tongue lick absurd pomp,And crook the pregnant hinges of the kneeWhere thrift may follow fawning.

For herein Fortune shows herself more kindThan is her custom: it is still her useTo let the wretched man outlive his wealth,To view with hollow eye and wrinkled browAn age of poverty.

Through tatter'd clothes small vices do appear;Robes and furr'd gowns hide all. Plate sin with gold,And the strong lance of justice hurtless breaks;Arm it in rags, a pigmy's straw does pierce it.

I'll give my jewels for a set of beads,My gorgeous palace for a hermitage,My gay apparel for an almsman's gown.

Evermore thanks, the exchequer of the poor.

My love'sMore richer than my tongue.

I come to wive it wealthily in Padua.

There's beggary in the love that can be reckon'd.

Our purses shall be proud, our garments poor:For 'tis the mind that makes the body rich;And as the sun breaks through the darkest clouds,So honor peereth in the meanest habit.

Rich honesty dwells like a miser, sir, in a poor house, as your pearl in your foul oyster.

See, sons, what things you are!How quickly nature falls into revoltWhen gold becomes her object!

'Tis better to be lowly born,And range with humble livers in content,Than to be perk'd up in a glist'ring griefAnd wear a golden sorrow.

Poor and content is rich, and rich enough.

I had rather than forty shillings I had my Book of Songs and Sonnets here.

For thy sweet love remember'd such wealth bringsThat then I scorn to change my state with kings.

Saint-seducing gold.

Nothing comes amiss, so money comes withal.

A purse of gold most resolutely snatched on Monday night and most dissolutely spent on Tuesday morning.

What infinite heart's easeMust kings neglect that private men enjoy!And what have kings that privates have not too,Save ceremony, save general ceremony?And what art thou, thou idol ceremony?What kind of god art thou, that suffer'st moreOf mortal griefs than do thy worshippers?What are thy rents? what are thy comings-in?O ceremony! show me but thy worth.

My crown is called content, a crown that seldom kings enjoy.

He that wants money, means, and content, is without three good friends.

O, what a world of vile ill-favor'd faultsLooks handsome in three hundred pounds a year!