“So friar, I see you have a taste for meat.”
“Not that it’s any good without some wine.”
“You like wine too, then?” “Better when I dine
With pretty harlots.” “Surely such girls eat
No end of money?” “Well, I steal you see,
Or win at dice.” “A thief and gambler too?”
“Why certainly. What else is there to do?
Aren’t you aware I am vowed to poverty?”

***

Truly, the loss of welath is no great pain.
When fate disposes, wealth begins, or ends.
Yet one heart-burning follows in its train:
The sorrow of the cooling off of friends.