Think you ’tis loyalty or gain? 
  That statesman hath the strongest hold,
  Whose tool of politics is gold.
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  By that, in former reigns, ’tis said,
  The knave in power hath senates led. 
  By that alone he swayed debates,
  Enriched himself and beggared states. 
  Forego your boast.  You must conclude,
  That’s most esteemed that’s most pursued. 
  Think too, in what a woful plight
  That wretch must live whose pocket’s light. 
  Are not his hours by want depress’d? 
  Penurious care corrodes his breast.
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  Without respect, or love, or friends,
  His solitary day descends.’ 
     ‘You might,’ says Cupid, ’doubt my parts,
  My knowledge too in human hearts,
  Should I the power of gold dispute,
  Which great examples might confute. 
  I know, when nothing else prevails,
  Persuasive money seldom fails;
  That beauty too (like other wares)
  Its price, as well as conscience, bears.
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  Then marriage (as of late profess’d)
  Is but a money-job at best. 
  Consent, compliance may be sold: 
  But love’s beyond the price of gold. 
  Smugglers there are, who by retail,
  Expose what they call love, to sale,
  Such bargains are an arrant cheat: 
  You purchase flattery and deceit. 
  Those who true love have ever tried,
  (The common cares of life supplied,)
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  No wants endure, no wishes make,
  But every real joy partake,
  All comfort on themselves depends;
  They want nor power, nor wealth, nor friends. 
  Love then hath every bliss in store: 
  ’Tis friendship, and ’tis something more. 
  Each other every wish they give,
  Not to know love, is not to live.’ 
     ‘Or love, or money,’ Time replied,
  ’Were men the question to decide,
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  Would bear the prize:  on both intent,
  My boon’s neglected or misspent. 
  ’Tis I who measure vital space,
  And deal out years to human race. 
  Though little prized, and seldom sought,
  Without me love and gold are nought. 
  How does the miser time employ? 
  Did I e’er see him life enjoy? 
  By me forsook, the hoards he won,
  Are scattered by his lavish son.
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  By me all useful arts are gained;
  Wealth, learning, wisdom is attained. 
  Who then would think (since such, my power)
  That e’er I knew an idle hour? 
  So subtle and so swift I fly,
  Love’s not more fugitive than I.
  Who hath not heard coquettes complain
  Of days, months, years, misspent in vain? 
  For time misused they pine and waste,
  And love’s sweet pleasures never taste.
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  Those who direct their time aright,
  If love or wealth their hopes excite,
  In each pursuit fit hours employed,
  And both by Time have been enjoyed. 
  How heedless then are mortals grown! 
  How little is their interest known? 
  In every view they ought to mind me;
  For when once lost they never find me.’ 
     He spoke.  The gods no more contest,
  And his superior gift confess’d;
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  That time when (truly understood)
  Is the most precious earthly good.