Auri sacra fames quid non?
Desire to have, dothe make us muche indure,
In travaile, toile, and labour voide of reste:
The marchant man is caried with this lure,
Throughe scorching heate, to regions of the Easte:
Oh thirste of goulde, what not? but thou canst do:
And make mens hartes for to consent thereto.
The travailer poore, when shippe doth suffer wracke,
Who hopes to swimme unto the wished lande,
Dothe venture life, with fardle on his backe,
That if he scape, the same in steede maye stande.
Thus, hope of life, and love unto his goods,
Houldes up his chinne, with burthen in the floods.