'Tis part of the tax on "Ten Thousand a Year."
The blessings of wealth would be given in vain
To one who'd not swim all his friends in champagne:
His dinners must needs be the talk of the season,
As feasts of whate'er can be thought of—but reason.
As a liveried lacquey, perchance, there may wait
Some usurer, having a lien on the plate;
Who will not allow it to pass from his sight,
Although to its owner 'tis lent for the night:
The usurer gracefully keeps in the rear,