Angry at truth, and wrought to fierce disdain,
He swore his loss should be no woman’s gain; 300
His table she might share, his name she must;
But if aught more—she gets it upon trust.
For a few weeks his pride her face display’d—
He then began to thwart her, and upbraid;
He grew imperious, insolent, and loud—
His blinded weakness made his folly proud;
He would be master—she had no pretence
To counsel him, as if he wanted sense;