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. – John Dryden
We lovd, and we lovd as long as we could
Til our love was lovd out in us both;
But our marriage is dead, when the pleasure has fled:
Twas pleasure that made it an oath. – John Dryden