“If also ye take note what piteous death They ofttimes make, whose hoards were manifold, Who cities had and gold And multitudes of men beneath their hand; Then he among you that most angereth Shall bless me saying, ‘Lo! I worship thee That I was not as he Whose death is thus accurst throughout the land.’ But now your living souls are held in band Of avarice, shutting you from the true light Which shows how sad and slight Are this world’s treasured riches and array That still change hands a hundred times a day.