This Tharsus, o'er which I have the government,
  A city on whom Plenty held full hand,
    For Riches strewed herself even in her streets;
      Whose towers bore heads so high they kissed the clouds,
        And strangers ne'er beheld but wond'red at;
          Whose men and dames so jetted and adorned,
            Like one another's glass to trim them by;
              Their tables were stored full, to glad the sight,
                And not so much to feed on as delight;
                  All poverty was scorned, and pride so great
                    The name of help grew odious to repeat.
 — William Shakespeare
  Delight