Sonnet 24: Rich Fools There Be
Rich
fools
there
be,
whose
base
and
filthy
heart
Lies
hatching
still
the
goods
wherein
they
flow:
And
damning
their
own
selves
to
Tantal's
smart,
Wealth
breeding
want,
more
blist
more
wretched
grow.
Yet
to
those
fools
heav'n
such
wit
doth
impart
As
what
their
hands
do
hold,
their
heads
do
know,
And
knowing
love,
and
loving,
lay
apart,
As
sacred
things,
far
from
all
danger's
show.
But
that
rich
fool
who
by
blind
Fortune's
lot
The
richest
gem
of
love
and
life
enjoys,
And
can
with
foul
abuse
such
beauties
blot;
Let
him,
depriv'd
of
sweet
but
unfelt
joys,
(Exil'd
for
aye
from
those
high
treasures,
which
He
knows
not)
grow
in
only
folly
rich.