“Scourge me such catch-penny inditers
Out of the land,” quoth Will—rousing in passion—
“And fy upon the readers of such writers,
Who bring them into fashion!”
Will rose in declamation. “’Tis the bane,”
Says he, “of youth;—’tis the perdition:
It fills a giddy female brain
With vice, romance, lust, terror, pain,—
With superstition.