Who perish at their own request, and, whelm’d
Beneath her load of lavish grants, expire. 1000
Fortune is famous for her numbers slain,
The number small, which happiness can bear. 1002
Though various for a while their fates; at last
One curse involves them all: at Death’s approach,
All read their riches backward into loss,
And mourn, in just proportion to their store.
And Death’s approach (if orthodox my song)
Is hasten’d by the lure of Fortune’s smiles.