236. Men Mind No State in Sickness
That flow of gallants which approachTo kiss thy hand from out the coach;That fleet of lackeys which do runBefore thy swift postilion;Those strong-hoof’d mules, which we beholdRein’d in with purple, pearl, and gold,And shod with silver, prove to beThe drawers of the axle-tree;Thy wife, thy children, and the stateOf Persian looms and antique plate:—All these, and more, shall then affordNo joy to thee, their sickly lord.