Here’s a heart for every fate.
In all thy humors, whether grave or mellow,
Thou art such a touchy, testy, pleasant fellow;
Hast so much wit, and mirth, and spleen, about thee,
There is no living with thee, nor without thee.
May you live in bliss, from sorrow away,
Having plenty laid up for a rainy day;
And when you are ready to settle in life,