Shove, every night, his supper ended;
And sipp’d his glass of negus, till he reckon’d,
By his stop-watch, exactly, one more quarter;
Then, as exactly, he untied one garter;—
A token ’twas that he for bed intended:
Yet having, still, a quarter good before him,
He leisurely undress’d before the fire;
Contriving, as the quarter did expire,
To be as naked as his mother bore him:
Bating his shirt, and night-cap on his head;—