They sleep no more! [17]quadrille has murder'd sleep.
"Poor K—p! cries Livia; I have not been there
These two nights; the poor creature will despair.
I hate a crowd—but to do good, you know—
And people of condition should bestow."
Convinc'd, o'ercome, to K—p's grave matrons run;
Now set a daughter, and now stake a son;
Let health, fame, temper, beauty, fortune, fly;
And beggar half their race—thro' charity.
Immortal were we, or else mortal quite,