Another. To Mr. Denham

WHen the old Cynicks shade with Croesus met,
He smil'd to see the meager Monarch fret;
And thus accosted him—But why so pale?
What, doos the Yellow Jaundice still prevail?
No—Croesus! no—for all your earthly store,
You, call'd to an account, not I, am poor.
All that I had, here I have with me brought,
You've travell'd to another World with nothing fraught.