Without a hint she came, and will she stay
Till she receives the hint to go away?”
Confused the Wife replied, in spite of truth,
“I love the dear companion of my youth.”
“’Tis well,” said Stafford; “then your loves renew:
Trust me, your rivals, Anna, will be few.”
Though playful this, she felt too much distress’d
T’admit the consolation of a jest.
Ill she reposed, and in her dreams would sigh,
And, murmuring forth her anguish, beg to die;