His thousand tales about dear Rollingate.

No longer would he make his morning-call

And quaff the goblet in the “Servants’ hall,”

Which he had done for many and many a year

And claim’d his usual “horn-and-half” of beer.

Nor would he e’er interrogate again—

As he would call her—his “young Mistress Jane,”

And list to her sweet replicating word

When he would ask about his absent lord.

No longer would the folks attending church