Jeremy Bentham in his iconoclastic Defence of Usury offers this plausible if somewhat cynical explanation of the well-nigh universal unpopularity of the money lender: “Those who have the resolution to sacrifice the present to the future, are natural objects of envy to those who have sacrificed the future to the present. The children who have eaten their cake, are the natural enemies of the children who have theirs.” And similarly he explains the unhappy rôle that is almost as universally meted out to the money lender of drama. “It is the business of the dramatist,” he says, “to study and to conform to, the humors and passions of those on the pleasing of whom he depends for his success… Now I question whether, among all the instances in which a borrower and a lender of money have been brought together upon the stage, from the days of Thespis to the present, there ever was one, in which the former was not recommended to favour in some shape or other—either to admiration, or to love, or to pity, or to all three;—and the other, the man of thrift, consigned to infamy.”