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Tales.
Which all Love's chronicles agree
She wore just turn'd of twenty-three:
For an old sot she call'd her mate, 25
For jewels, pin-money, and plate.
The dame, possess'd of wealth and ease,
Had no more appetites to please:
That which provokes wild girls to wed,
Fie!—it ne'er enter'd in her head. 30
Yet some prolific planet smil'd,
And gave the pair a chopping child,
Entitled by the law to claim.
Her husband's chattels and his name;
But was so like his mother! she 35
The queen of Love, her Cupid he.
This matron fair for spouse deceas'd
Had sorrow'd sore a week at least,
And seem'd to grudge the worms that prey
Which had lain dead full many a day. 40
From plays and balls she now refrain'd,
To a dark room by custom chain'd,
And not a male for love or gold,
But the dear hopes of two years old.
The maids, so long in prison pent, 45
Ask leave to air; she gives consent;
(For health is riches to the poor)
But Tom must stay to guard the door.
In reading Sherlock she'd employ
Her solitude, and tend the boy. 50