'Tis indolence that clogs your mind! That load from off your spirits shake; You'll own and grieve for your mistake; _80 A while your thoughtless spleen suspend, Then read, and (if you can) attend. As Plutus, to divert his care, Walked forth one morn to take the air, Cupid o'ertook his strutting pace, Each stared upon the stranger's face, Till recollection set them right; For each knew t'other but by sight. After some complimental talk, Time met them, bowed, and joined their walk. _90 Their chat on various subjects ran, But most, what each had done for man. Plutus assumes a haughty air, Just like our purse-proud fellows here. 'Let kings,' says he, 'let cobblers tell, Whose gifts among mankind excel. Consider Courts: what draws their train? Think you 'tis loyalty or gain? That statesman hath the strongest hold, Whose tool of politics is gold. _100 By that, in former reigns, 'tis said, The knave in power hath senates led. By that alone he swayed debates, Enriched himself and beggared states. Forego your boast. You must conclude, That's most esteemed that's most pursued. Think too, in what a woful plight That wretch must live whose pocket's light. Are not his hours by want depress'd? Penurious care corrodes his breast. _110 Without respect, or love, or friends, His solitary day descends.' 'You might,' says Cupid, 'doubt my parts, My knowledge too in human hearts, Should I the power of gold dispute, Which great examples might confute. I know, when nothing else prevails, Persuasive money seldom fails; That beauty too (like other wares) Its price, as well as conscience, bears. _120 Then marriage (as of late profess'd) Is but a money-job at best. Consent, compliance may be sold: But love's beyond the price of gold. Smugglers there are, who by retail, Expose what they call love, to sale, Such bargains are an arrant cheat: You purchase flattery and deceit. Those who true love have ever tried, (The common cares of life supplied,) _130 No wants endure, no wishes make, But every real joy partake, All comfort on themselves depends; They want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends. Love then hath every bliss in store: 'Tis friendship, and 'tis something more. Each other every wish they give, Not to know love, is not to live.' 'Or love, or money,' Time replied, 'Were men the question to decide, _140 Would bear the prize: on both intent, My boon's neglected or misspent. 'Tis I who measure vital space, And deal out years to human race. Though little prized, and seldom sought, Without me love and gold are nought. How does the miser time employ? Did I e'er see him life enjoy? By me forsook, the hoards he won, Are scattered by his lavish son. _150 By me all useful arts are gained; Wealth, learning, wisdom is attained. Who then would think (since such, my power) That e'er I knew an idle hour?