They would mock me in derision, should I thus appear before 'em.
Womankind no more shall vex me, such at least as go arrayed
In the most expensive satins and the newest silk brocade.
I'll to Afric, lion-haunted, where the giant forest yields
Rarer robes and finer tissues than are sold at Spitalfields.
Or to burst all chains of habit, flinging habit's self aside,
I shall walk the tangled jungle in mankind's primeval pride;
Feeding on the luscious berries and the rich cassava root,
Lots of dates and lots of guavas, clusters of forbidden fruit.
Never comes the trader thither, never o'er the purple main