Literally and truly, one cannot get on well in the world without money.
To be in want of it, is to pass through life with little credit or pleasure; it is to be despised, it is not to be asked out to miner, or noticed in the street; it is not to have your opinion consulted or else rejected with contempt, it is to be scrutinized by strangers, and neglected by friends, it is to forego leisure, freedom, ease of body and mind, to be dependent on the good-will and caprice of others; it is to earn a precarious and irksome livelihood by some laborious employment; it is to be compelled to stand behind a counter, or to sit at a desk in some public office, or to marry your landlady, or not the person you would wish; or to go out to he East or West Indies, to get a situation as judge abroad and return home with a liver complaint, or to be deprived of the use of your fingers by transcribing Greek manuscripts; or to try some of the Fine Arts, with all your pains, anxiety and hopes, most probably to fail, or, if you succeed, after the exertions of years, and undergoing constant distress of mind and fortune, to be assailed on every side with envy, back-biting, and falsehood,
or to be a favorite with the public for a while, and then thrown into the background; it is to be jostled by the rabble because you do not ride in you coach, or avoided by those who know your worth and shrink from it; it is to be a burden to your relations, or unable to do anything for them; to be ashamed to venture into crowds; to have cold comfort at home; to lose by degrees your confidence and any talent you might possess; to grow crabbed, morose, dissatisfied with every one, but most so with yourself, and plagued out of your life, to look about for a place to die in, and quit the world.
The wiseacres will possibly, however, crowed round your coffin, and raise a monument at a considerable expense, and after a lapse of time, to commemorate your genius and your misfortunes!
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