'The aged man that coffers-up his gold (856)
Is plagued with cramps and gouts and painful fits; (857)
And scarce hath eyes his treasure to behold, (858)
But like still-pining Tantalus he sits, (859)
And useless barns the harvest of his wits;
Having no other pleasure of his gain (861)
But torment that it cannot cure his pain.