Claiming young Beauty as the warrior’s right,
Then scorning conquest as a passing freak.
The Justice next, with pockets golden lined,
With money bags to lure and satyr leer;
Resolved at fifty years a maid to find,
As wife for two and nurse for twenty years.
Sixth stage, the pantaloon, wan, shrunk, and thin,
With limbs half paralysed and senses numb,
Chucking the nurs’ry maid beneath the chin
And mumbling nonsense with a toothless gum.