Success, nay prudence, they may want, but yet
They would be solvent, and deplore a debt;
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All means they use, to all expedients run,
And are by slow, sad steps, at last undone.
Justly, perhaps, you blame their want of skill,
But mourn their feelings and absolve their will.
There is a debtor, who his trifling all
Spreads in a shop; it would not fill a stall:
There at one window his temptation lays,