" Now, Learned Old Fellow! I'll state thy true case:
Oh, what a wrong'd woman am I!
I'll leave thee, I'll get a good housekeeper's place —
And do something else by and bye.
This comes of your printing, and new-fangl'd schools;
I'm driv'n from thy board, and thy bed;
But if thou art wise, let me live with the fools,
For they know how to butter their bread.
Oh, if I'd an income, a home of my own!
I'd ne'er look again on thy face;
But my wrongs, Mister Intellect! all shall be known
When I've got a good housekeeper's place.
Then, bless'd with thy absence, and snug as a mouse,
I'll pick with a friend a dry bone;
For thy famous tup shins shall ne'er enter our house,
Though I can't turn thee out of thy own.
I read thee, Old Dog, and old Cain on thy brow!
My pearls are but thrown unto swine:
A pattern for servants to copy art thou;
What manners, Old Beggar, are thine!
Thy brothers were beggars — Thou Son of Old Spite!
Will the brother of fools say, I lie?
Thy parish-paid aunt was a thread-bare Old Fright;
Thy father was blind of an eye;
Thy uncle's lean niece had a face like a fish;
Her husband gave bail for two thieves;
Thy cousin, blue Snob, was sold up, spoon and dish;
Did he die in a shirt without sleeves?
Thy sisters, they — Oh, not a breath can I fetch!
Dog! my breathing — my breathing's so bad! —
But it's well there's a madhouse, thou raving Old Wretch!
Sarah! Sarah! the Fellow's gone mad! "