For now his departure she scarcely could brook;
While her sister did fret and her housemaid did fume,
And her friends in a passion walk’d all round the room,
And the servants too whisper’d, “She’s wrong, who e’er dares,
To meddle so much with a Bishop’s affairs.”
One hint by the way—and one word in your ear
If ever you wish to be darling and dear—
Ne’er talk to a Bishop ’bout mammon, but know
His blessing’s enough, as the sequel will show;
“She is false—then farewell—let her rail, but who cares;