THE CITIZEN, in fraud grown old,
Who knows no Deity but Gold,
Worn out, and gasping now for breath,
A Med'cine wants to keep off Death;
Would know, if THAT he cannot have,
What Coins are current in the grave;
If, when the Stocks (which by  pow'r,
Would rise or fall in half an hour,
For, tho' unthought of and unseen,
He work'd the springs behind the screen)
By  directions came about,
And rose to  he should sell out;
Whether he safely might or no,
Replace it in the Funds