We leave this royal couple to repose:

A bed is not a throne, and they may sleep,

Whate'er their dreams be, if of joys or woes:

Yet disappointed joys are woes as deep

As any man's clay mixture undergoes.

Our least of sorrows are such as we weep;

'T is the vile daily drop on drop which wears

The soul out (like the stone) with petty cares.[GM]