CHREMYLUS: Why, everything there is, is just Wealth’s slave. The girls, now, if a poor man comes along, Will they look at him? But just let a rich one, And he can get a deal more than he wants. SLAVE: Oh, not the sweet, good, modest girls. They never Would ask a man for money. CHREMYLUS: No? What then? SLAVE: Presents—the kind that cost a lot—that’s all. CHREMYLUS: Well, all the voting’s done for Wealth of course. You man our battleships. You own our army. When you’re an ally, that side’s sure to win. Nobody ever has enough of you. While all things else a man can have too much of— Of love.
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