Ah me! I was a fair young curate then!
Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;
Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;
Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;
And when I coughed all thought the end was near.
I had no care—no jealous doubts hung o’er me;
For I was loved beyond all other men.
Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me.
Ah me! I was a pale young curate then!
[At the conclusion of the ballad, Mrs. Partlet comes forward with Constance.