And again:

I’ve drunk foul water; slept forlorn
On gathered bits of broken thorn;
I’ve lost my love, I’ve begged for alms,
Enduring heart- and belly-qualms;
I’ve crossed the sea; I’ve walked afar;
I’ve treasured half a shattered jar:
Of further labors is there need?
Quick, damn you! Give your orders, Greed!

No poor man’s evidence is heard,
Though logic link it word to word:
While wealthy babble passes muster
Though crammed with harshness, vice, and bluster.

The wealthy, though of meanest birth,
Are much respected on the earth:
The poor whose lineage is prized
Like clearest moonlight, are despised.

The wealthy are, however old,
Rejuvenated by their gold:
If money has departed, then
The youngest lads are aged men.

Since brother, son, and wife, and friend
Desert when cash is at an end,
Returning when the cash rolls in,
‘Tis cash that is our next of kin.

“At the moment when, with such thoughts in my mind, I went to my quarters, our friend Swift came to me and suggested a journey hither. So here I am. I have come with him to visit you. Thus I have related to you the cause of my gloom.

“Well, there is this to be said:

The world — gods, elephants, and men,
Deer, devils, snakes —
Before the noonday hour is spent,
Its dinner takes.

When hour and appetite arrive,
There should suffice
For world-wide conqueror or slave
A bowl of rice.

For this, what man of sense would do
Base deeds perverse,
Whose consequences drag him down
From bad to worse?”

When he had listened to this, Slow began to offer consolation. “My dear fellow,” said he, “you must not lose heart at leaving your country. Intelligent as you are, why feel disturbed without occasion? Consider the saying:

The merely learnèd is a fool;
The wise man uses action’s tool:
For no remembered drug can cure
The sick by name alone, ‘tis sure.

To brave and wise what land is strange,
Or native? Whatsoever change
Befall, he makes the land his own
By strength of valiant arm alone:
The lion’s whim is jungle law
By strength of tooth and tail and claw;
He slaughters elephants for food,
And slakes his servants’ thirst with blood.

“Therefore, my dear fellow, we must always be energetic. Where will money feel at home, or pleasures? You know the saying:

As frogs will find a drinking-hole,
Or birds a brimming lake,
So friends and money seek a man
Whose vigor does not break.

From another point of view:

The goddess Fortune seeks as home
The brave and friendly man,
The grateful, righteous soul who does
Each moment what he can,
Who regulates a sturdy life
Upon an active plan.

Or, put it this way:

The brave, wise, hopeful, and persistent,
From tricks, freaks, meanness equidistant —
If such there be,
And Fortune flee,
The joke on Fortune falls, insistent.

While, on the other hand:

If man be fatalist and slacker,
Irresolute and sang-froid lacker,
Him Fortune — as a bouncing miss
Her aged lover — hates to kiss.

Abysmal learning does not aid
To virtue those who are afraid:
As men with lamps no sooner find
Lost objects, if those men are blind.

The prince becomes a beggar;
By weak are slayers slain;
The beggar ceases begging;
When fate revolves again.

“Nor must you, in view of the aphorism,

Since teeth and nails and men and hair,
If out of place, are ugly there

draw the coward’s conclusion:

Let no man leave his native place.

“For to the competent there is no distinction between native and foreign land. You must have heard the saying:

Brave, learnèd, fair,
Where’er they roam,
Without delay
Are quite at home.

The shrewdly valiant on the earth
Will always master money’s worth;
Not those of godlike scholarship —
‘Tis certain — if they lose their grip.

“Today, no doubt, your purse is light. For all that, you are not in the position of the commonplace fellow, for you have sense and vigor. And the proverb says:

Let sturdy resolution guide,
And poor men touch the peak of pride;
Let money fold in its embrace
The mean, they sink to lowly place:
The lion’s majesty derives
From nature, rich because he strives
To crown his feats with nobler feats.
What golden-collared dog competes?

And again:

Some men compacted of self-rigor
With valor, enterprise, and vigor
Indifferently view the muddle
Of ocean and the petty puddle;
As at some wretched ant-hill, frown
At Himalaya’s highest crown:
To these, not those who wait and see,
Comes Fortune, tripping eagerly.

And once more:

Mount Meru is not very high
Hell is not very low,
The sea not shoreless, if a man
Abounding vigor show.

For, after all:

Why, wealthy, puff with pride?
Why, poor, in gloom subside?
Since, like a stricken ball,
Men’s fortunes rise and fall.

In any case, remember that youth and wealth are unstable as water-bubbles. As the saying goes:

With shadows of the passing cloud,
New grain, and knavish friends,
With women’s love, and youth, and wealth,
Enjoyment quickly ends.

This being so, if an intelligent man catches slippery money, let him make it fruitful, by giving it away or enjoying it. As the proverb tells us:

The coin that cost a hundred toils,
That men are wont to cherish
Beyond their life, will, if it be
Not given to others, perish.

And again:

Bestow, or use your wealth for pleasure;
If not, you hoard another’s treasure:
As in your home, your lovely girl
Awaits a stranger — his dear pearl.

And once again:

The miser for another hoards
His bags of needless money:
The bees laboriously pack,
But others taste the honey.

In any event, fate has the last word. As the proverb puts it:

In weapon-bristling battle or at home,
In flaming fire, wild cave, or monstrous sea,
Among thanatophidian fangs elate,
The to-be is, is not the not-to-be.

Now you are healthy and enjoy peace of mind. This is the supreme possession. As the saying goes:

The lord of seven continents
Beset by crawling greed,
Is but a beggar; he who lives
Content, is rich indeed.

Besides, on this earth

No treasure equals charity;
Content is perfect wealth;
No gem compares with character;
No wish fulfilled, with health.

Nor must you think: ‘How can I survive, having lost my possessions?’ For money passes away, man’s character abides. There is a proverb to fit the case:

The noble man, indeed, may fall
To earth — like an elastic ball;
The coward who drops is down to stay,
Is flattened like a ball of clay.

But why bore you? Here is the nub of duty. Certain men are born to enjoy the pleasures that money brings, certain others are born money’s guardians. There is a verse about it:

Your wealth will flee
If fate decree,
Though it was fairly earned:
So silly Soft,
When perched aloft
In that great forest, learned.”

“How was that?” asked Gold. And Slow told the story of SOFT, THE WEAVER.

Soft, the Weaver

In a certain town lived a weaver. His name was Soft, and he spent his time making garments dyed in various patterns, fit for such people as princes. But for all his labors, he could not collect a bit of money beyond food and clothes. Yet he saw other weavers, who made coarse fabrics, rolling in wealth, and he said to his wife: “Look at these fellows, my dear. They make coarse stuff, but they earn heaps of money. This city does not offer me a decent living. I am going to move.”

“Oh, my dear,” said his wife, “it is a mistake to say that money comes to those who travel. There is a proverb:

What shall not be, will never be;
What shall be, follows painlessly:
The thing your fingers grasp, will flit,
If fate has predetermined it.

And again:

A calf can find its mother cow
Among a thousand kine:
So good or evil done, returns
And whispers: ‘I am thine.’

And once again:

As shade and sunlight interbreed,
So twined are Doer and his Deed.

So stay here and mind your business.”

“You are mistaken, my dear,” said he. “No deed comes to fruition without effort. There is a proverb:

You cannot clap a single hand;
Nor, effortless, do what you planned.

And again:

Although, at meal-time, fate provide
A richly loaded plate,
No food will reach the mouth, unless
The hand co-operate.

And once again:

Through work, not wishes, every plan
Its full fruition reaps:
No deer walk down the lion’s throat
So long as lion sleeps.

And one last quotation:

Suppose he gave the best he had,
Yet no fruition came,
‘Twas fate that blocked his efforts, not
The man who was to blame.

I must go to another country.” So he went to Growing City, stayed three years, and started home with savings of three hundred gold-pieces.

In mid-journey, he found himself in a great forest when the blessèd sun went to rest. So, forethoughtful for his safety, he climbed upon a stout branch of a banyan tree and dozed. In the middle of the night, as he slept, he saw two human figures whose eyes were bloodshot with fury, and heard them abusing each other.

The first of them was saying: “Come now, Doer! You know you have, in every possible way, prevented this fellow Soft from getting any capital beyond food and clothes. So you have no right ever to let him have any. Why did you give him three hundred gold-pieces?”

“Now, Deed!” said the other, “I am constrained to give the enterprising a reward in proportion to their enterprise. The final consequence is your affair. Take it from him yourself.” On hearing this, Soft awoke and looked for his bag of gold.

When he found it empty, he thought: “Oh, dear! It was so much trouble to earn the money, and it went in a flash. I have had my work for nothing. I haven’t a thing. How can I look my wife in the face, or my friends?” So he made up his mind to return to Growing City. There he earned five hundred gold-pieces in just one single year, and started home again by a different road.

When the sun went down, he came upon the very same banyan tree, and he thought: “Oh, oh, oh! What is fate up to — damn the brute! Here is that same fiendish old banyan tree once more.” But he dozed off on a branch, and saw the same two figures.

One of them was saying: “Doer, why did you give this fellow Soft five hundred gold-pieces? Don’t you know that he doesn’t get a thing beyond food and clothes?”

“Friend Deed,” said the other, “I am constrained to give to the enterprising. The final consequence is your affair. So why blame me?”

When poor Soft heard this, he looked for his bag and found it empty. This plunged him into the depths of gloom, and he thought: “Oh, dear! What good is life to me if I lose my money? I will just hang myself from this banyan tree and say goodbye to life.”

Having made up his mind, he wove a rope of spear-grass, adjusted it as a noose to his neck, climbed out a branch, fastened it, and was about to let himself drop, when one of the figures appeared in the sky and said: “Do not be so rash, Friend Soft; I am the person who takes your money, who does not allow you one cowrie beyond food and clothes. Now go home. But, that you may not have seen me without result, ask your heart’s desire.”

“In that case,” said Soft, “give me plenty of money.” “My good fellow,” said the other, “what will you do with money which you cannot enjoy or give away? For you are to have no use of it beyond food and clothes.”

But Soft replied: “Even if I get no use of it, still I want it. You know the proverb:

The man of capital,
Though ugly and base-born,
Is honored by the world
For charity forlorn.

And again:

Loose they are, yet tight;
Fall, or stick, my dear?
I have watched them now
Till the fifteenth year.”

“How was that?” asked the figure. And Soft told the story of HANG-BALL AND GREEDY.

Hang-Ball and Greedy

In a certain town lived a bull named Hang-Ball. From excess of male vigor he abandoned the herd, tore the river-banks with his horns, browsed at will on emerald-tipped grasses, and went wild in the forest.

In that forest lived a jackal named Greedy. One day he sprawled at ease with his wife on a sandy riverbank. At that moment the bull Hang-Ball came down to the same stretch of sand for a drink. And the she-jackal said to her husband when she saw the hanging testicles: “Look, my dear! See how two lumps of flesh hang from that bull. They will fall in a moment, or a few hours at most. So you must follow him, please.”

“My dear,” said the jackal, “nobody knows. Perhaps they will fall some day, perhaps not. Why send me on a fool’s errand? I would rather stay here with you and eat the mice that come to water. They follow this trail. And if I should follow him, somebody else would come here and occupy the spot. Better not do it. You know the proverb:

If any leave a certain thing,
For things uncertain wandering,
The sure that was, is sure no more;
What is not sure, was lost before.”

“Come,” said she, “you are a coward, satisfied with any little thing. You are quite wrong. We always ought to be energetic, a man especially. There is a saying:

Depend on energetic might,
And banish indolence’s blight,
Let enterprise and prudence kiss —
All luck is yours — it cannot miss.

And again:

Let none, content with fate’s negation,
Sink into lazy self-prostration:
No oil of sesame, unless
The seeds of sesame you press.

“And as for your saying: ‘Perhaps they will fall, perhaps not,’ that, too, is wrong. Remember the proverb:

Mere bulk is naught. The resolute
Have honor sure:
God brings the plover water. Who
Dare call him poor?

“Besides, I am dreadfully tired of mouse-flesh, and these two lumps of meat are plainly on the point of falling. You must not refuse me.”

So when he had listened to this, he left the spot where mice were to be caught and followed Hang-Ball. Well, there is wisdom in the saying:

Only while he does not hear
Woman’s whisper in his ear,
Goading him against his will,
Is a man his master still.

And again:

In action, should-not is as should,
In motion, cannot is as can,
In eating, ought-not is as ought,
When woman’s whispers drive a man.

So he spent much time wandering with his wife after the bull. But they did not fall. At last in the fifteenth year, in utter gloom he said to his wife:

“Loose they are, yet tight;
Fall, or stick, my dear?
I have watched them now
Till the fifteenth year.

Let us draw the conclusion that they will not fall in the future either, and return to the old mouse-trail.”

“And that is why I say:

Loose they are, yet tight,....

and the rest of it.

“Now anybody as rich as that becomes an object of desire. So give me plenty of money.”

“If things stand so,” said the figure, “go once more to Growing City. There dwell two sons of merchants; their names are Penny-Hide and Penny-Fling. When you have observed their conduct, you may ask for yourself the nature of one or the other.” With this he vanished, and Soft returned to Growing City, his mind in a maze.

At evening twilight, he wearily inquired for Penny-Hide’s residence, learned with some trouble where it was, and called there. In spite of scoldings from the wife, the children, and others, he made his way into the courtyard and sat down. Then at dinner-time he received food but no kind word, and went to sleep there.

During the night he saw the same two human figures holding council. One of them was saying: “Come now, Doer! Why are you making extra expense for this fellow Penny-Hide, in providing Soft with a meal?”

And the second replied: “Friend Deed, it is no fault of mine. I am constrained to attend to acquisition and expenditure. But their final consequence is your affair.” Now when the poor fellow awoke, he had to fast because Penny-Hide was in the second day of a cholera attack.