To dread his insult, to support his care;
To hear his follies, his contempt to prove,
And (oh! the torment!) to endure his love;
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Till want and deep regret those charms destroy,
That time would spare, if time were pass'd in joy?
With him, in varied pains, from morn till night,
Your hours shall pass, yourself a ruffian's right;
Your softest bed shall be the knotted wool;
Your purest drink the waters of the pool;