The covetous

HE is a servant to himself; yea, to his servant: and doth base homage to that which should be the worst drudge. A lifeless piece of earth is his master; yea, his god: which he shrines in his coffer, and to which he sacrifices his heart. Every face of his coin is a new image, which he adores with the highest veneration; yet takes upon him to be protector of that he worshippeth: which he fears to keep, and abhors to lose; not daring to trust either any other god or his own. Like a true chemist, he turns every thing into silver; both what he should eat, and what he should wear: and that he keeps to look on, not to use. When he returns from his field, he asks, not without much rage, what became of the loose crust in his cupboard, and who hath rioted amongst his leeks. He never eats good meal, but on his neighbour's trencher; and there he makes amends to his complaining stomach for his former and future fasts. He bids his neighbours to dinner, and when they have done, sends in a trencher for the shot. Once in a year, perhaps, he gives himself leave to feast; and, for the time, thinks no man more lavish; wherein he lists not to fetch his dishes from far; nor will he beholden to the shambles: his own provision shall furnish his board with an insensible cost; and when his guests are parted, talks how much every man devoured, and how many cups were emptied; and feeds his family with the mouldy remnants a month after. If his servant break but an earthen dish for want of light, he abates it out of his quarter's wages. He chips his bread, and sends it back to exchange for staler. He lets money, and sells time for a price; and will not be importuned, either to prevent or defer his day; and in the mean time looks for secret gratuities, besides the main interest, which he sells and returns into the stock. He breeds of money to the third generation, neither hath it sooner any being than he sets it to beget more. In all things he affects secrecy and propriety: he grudgeth his neighbour the water of his well; and, next to stealing, he hates borrowing. In his short and unquiet sleeps, he dreams of thieves, and runs to the door, and names more men than he hath. The least sheaf he ever culls out for tithe; and to rob God, holds it the best pastime, the clearest gain. This man cries out, above other, of the prodigality of our times; and tells of the thrift of our forefathers: how that great prince thought himself royally attired when he bestowed thirteen shillings and four pence on half a suit: how one wedding gown served our grandmothers, till they exchanged it for a winding sheet: and praises plainness, not for less sin, but for less cost. For himself, he is still known by his forefathers' coat; which he means, with his blessing, to bequeath to the many descents of his heirs. He neither would be poor nor be accounted rich. No man complains so much of want, to avoid a subsidy: no man is so importunate in begging, so cruel in exaction: and when he most complains of want, he fears that which he complains to have. No way is indirect to wealth, whether of fraud or violence: gain is his godliness, which if conscience go about to prejudice, and grow troublesome by exclaiming against, he is condemned for a common barretor. Like another Ahab, he is sick of the next field; and thinks he is ill seated, while he dwells by neigbbours. Shortly, his neighbours do not much more hate him than he himself. He cares not, for no great advantage, to lose his friend, pine his body, damn his soul: and would despatch himself when corn falls, but that he is loath to cast away money on a cord.

Characters of Virtues and Vices (1608) Joseph Hall, Bishop of Exeter

The text is based on Hall's Works, ed. Philip Wynter, Vol. VI. (AMS Press, 1969. 89-125. Reprint of Oxford 1863 edn.)

		Greed
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