Thus, is she as Aurora fair;
Or eke like night her raven hair,
’Stead of her I would choose, I swear,
The ague.
“How think you of it, Hector?”
“That it should burn!”
“Nay, rather in due season shall it lighten the page of The Satyric Spy, or Polite Monitor. Indeed and verily, Hector, you were right and I was wrong, for women, as you once truly said, are the devil!”
Sir Hector’s keen gaze wavered for once, and he stirred uneasily in his chair.
“John,” quoth he, precise in his English, “if ever I voiced such damnable heresy, which I gravely doubt, I ha’ forgot it, long since, as a man and a MacLean should.”
“Forgot it, Hector? Amazing! You that have ever held Woman in such disdainful abhorrence!”