Still more concessions, which his bosom grieved;
While on the neck a hand appeared to please,
The other wandered equally at ease;
Be not offended, love! was often said;
To frantick rage the sight her sposo led,
Who, beating in his hat, was on the move
To sally forth, his wrath to let them prove,
To thrash his wife, and force her spark to feel
his nervous arm could quickly make him reel.
BE not so silly, whispered t'other Wight;