With a stick: and she had to be content.
When rich the wooer, quick the bargain made,
And the price in acorns, or berries paid.
In our times, though passion may burn, its flame
We call discreetly by some other name;
Is it force to warn daughters that to wed
Poverty means just a mother’s death bed?
And as for a sale of hearts, dare compare
A lawyer’s settlements with a swine’s fare!
Still, in essence a likeness we may find