Even this hath moved me, leaving these proud golden-garnished halls,
And the common sleeping chamber of Darius and myself,
Here to come. Sharp fear within me pricks my heart; I will declare
All the thoughts that deep perplex me to my friends; the secret fear
Lest our pride of ramping riches kick our sober weal in the dust,
Scattering wide what wealth Darius gathered, not without a god.
Twofold apprehension moves me, when I ponder this old truth;
Without men much riches profit little; without wealth the state,
Though in numbers much abounding, may not look on joyous light.
Riches are a thing not evil; but I tremble for the eye,