He ask’d - was answer’d, and went groaning by:
For some remains of spirit, temper, pride,
Forbade a prayer he knew would be denied.
Thus was the grieving man, with burthen’d ass,
Seen day by day along the street to pass:
“Who is he, Susan? who the poor old man?
He never calls - do make him, if you can.”
The conscious damsel still delay’d to speak,
She stopp’d confused, and had her words to seek;
From Susan’s fears the fact her mistress knew,