—Ego Pars—VIRG.

In wedlock a species of lottery lies,

  Where in blanks and in prizes we deal;

But how comes it that you, such a capital prize,

  Should so long have remained in the wheel?

If ever, by Fortune's indulgent decree,

  To me such a ticket should roll,

A sixteenth, Heaven knows! were sufficient for me;

  For what could I do with the whole?