To keep a toy-shop was attempt the last,
There too she fail’d, and schemes and hopes were past.
Now friendless, sick, and old, and wanting bread,
The first-born tears of fallen pride were shed -
True, bitter tears; and yet that wounded pride,
Among the poor, for poor distinctions sigh’d.
Though now her tales were to her audience fit;
Though loud her tones, and vulgar grown her wit,
Though now her dress - (but let me not explain
The piteous patchwork of the needy-vain,