At am'rous Flavio is the  Stocking thrown?
That very night he longs to lye alone.
The Fool whose Wife elopes some thrice a quarter,
For matrimonial Solace dies a martyr.
Did ever  Proteus, Merlin, any Witch,
Transform themselves so strangely as the Rich?
"Well, but the  Poor — the Poor have the same itch:
They change their  weekly Barber, weekly News,
Prefer a new Japanner to their shoes,
Discharge their  Garrets, move their Beds, and run
(They know not whither) in a Chaise and one;
They  hire their Sculler, and when once aboard,
Grow sick, and damn the Climate — like a Lord,