"Another marriage and another kiss?—
What! doth the tomb-ripe court his youth again?
O aged one, libertine in hope not deed!
O prodigal of wives as well as wealth!
Here stands thy damsel," trilled the Peri-tall
Diarra with the midnight in her hair,
Two lemon-blossoms blowing in her cheeks;
And took the dotard's jewels with the kiss
In merry mockery.
Ere the morrow's dawn