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This guerdon hathe, for his offence in hell:
The pleasante fruite, dothe to his lippe decline,
A riuer faire vnto his chinne doth swell:
Yet, twixt these two, for foode the wretche dothe sterue,
For bothe doe flee, when they his neede shoulde serue.
The couetous man, this fable reprehendes,
For chaunge his name, and
Hee dothe abounde, yet sterues and nothing spendes,
But keepes his goulde, as if it weare not his:
With slender fare, he doth his hunger feede,
And dare not touche his store, when hee doth neede.
Flumina, quid rides? Mutato nomine de te
Fabula narratur, congestis vndique saccis
Indormis inhians: & tanquam parcere sacris
Congeris &c. -
lib. 4.
Sat. 1.