The weariest and most loathed worldly life

That age, ache, penury, and imprisonment

Can lay on nature, is a paradise

To what we fear of death.

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Measure for Measure. Act iii. Sc. 1.

But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page,

Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll;

Chill penury repress'd their noble rage,

And froze the genial current of the soul.

Thomas Gray (1716-1771): Elegy in a Country Churchyard. Stanza 13.