My days of love are over; me no more
The charms of maid, wife, and still less of widow,
Can make the fool of which they made before—
In short, I must not lead the life I did do;
The credulous hope of mutual minds is o’er,
The copious use of claret is forbid too,
So for a good old-gentlemanly vice,
I think I must take up with avarice.