“Marry her, Bob! and are you really caught?
Then you’ve exchanged, I warrant, heart for heart—
’Tis well! I meant to warn her of your art;
This Parson’s Babe has made you quite a fool—
But are you sure your ardour will not cool?
Have you not habits, Boy? but take your chance!
How will you live? I cannot much advance.
But hear you not what through the village flies
That this your dove is famed for her disguise? 150
Yet, say they not, she leads a gayish life?