Ye are no friends of mine. I did not ask
A block of marble for my memory,
But gold to carve my hope. It was not much—
Nay, had it been your all, was it not well
To wreck your fortune on a hope sublime?
And, Merchants! The brave chance; a small outlay,
And income inconceivable! You chose.
My stately Spain was wiser. So much gold,
A little fleet,—some sailors—leaders known—
If not investment, speculation safe,