She would prate when she woke, and still chattering keep
Until night, and would even then talk in her sleep.'
Now, could you bear this to the end of your days,
Supposing that always she spoke to your praise?
Which by no means the case is, as sages declare,
(For of course in such matters we priests have no share).
Now I somewhere have read, but where, by mishap,
Can't remember at present—the fair are a trap
Made to catch the poor men, just like so many birds,
With a few pretty looks and a lot of sweet words,