Immured with my dear gold—my candle out—
All gloom—all silence—all despair! What, ho!
Friends! Friends? I have no friends. What right have I
To use the name? These money-bags have been
The only friends I've cared for—and for these
I've toiled, and pinched, and screwed—shutting my heart
To charity, humanity and love!
Detested traitors! Since I gave you all—
Aye, gave my very soul—can ye do naught
For me in this extremity? Ho! Without there!