So, lost to every promised joy of life,
Our ’Squire stood gaping at his angry wife; -
His fate, his ruin, where he saw it vain
To hope for peace, pray, threaten, or complain;
And thus, betwixt his wonder at the ill
And his despair, there stood he gaping still.
“Your answer, sir! - Shall I depart a spot
I thus detest?” - “Oh, miserable lot!”
Exclaim’d the man. “Go, serpent! nor remain
To sharpen woe by insult and disdain;