Envy's a sharper spur than pay.
Fools may our scorn, not envy, raise. For envy is a kind of praise.
One common fate we both must prove; You die with envy, I with love.
Envy's a sharper spur than pay: No author ever spar'd a brother; Wits are gamecocks to one another.
Who hath not heard the rich complain Of surfeits, and corporeal pain? He barr'd from every use of wealth, Envies the ploughman's strength and health.
Envy is a kind of praise.