Apemantus's grace

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf;

I pray for no man but myself:

Grant I may never prove so fond,

To trust man on his oath or bond;

Or a harlot, for her weeping;

Or a dog, that seems a-sleeping:

Or a keeper with my freedom;

Or my friends, if I should need 'em.

Amen. So fall to't:

Rich men sin, and I eat root.