They have their brokers and their share-accounts,
And one man in his time tries many lines,
The end being total ruin. First, the greenhorn,
Dabbling and dealing in a lucky spec;
And then the prosperous seller, with his profits
And joyous winning face, buying like mad,
Unwilling to sell out; and then, the loser,
Sighing like furnace, with a woful prospect
Of the next settling day! Then the director,
Full of strange schemes, and lodged at the west-end,