Page:The Works of Alexander Pope (1717).djvu/295
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The WIFE of BATH.
259
To find in pleasures I have had my part,
Still warms me to the bottom of my heart.
This wicked world was once my dear delight;
Now all my conquests, all my charms good night!
The flour consum'd, the best that now I can,
Is e'en to make my market of the bran.
My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true;
He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two:
But all that score I paid—as how? you'll say,
Not with my body, in a filthy way—
But I so dress'd, and danc'd, and drank, and din'd;
And view'd a friend, with eyes so very kind,
As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry
With burning rage, and frantic jealousy.
His soul, I hope, enjoys perpetual glory,
For here on earth I was his purgatory.
Oft', when his shoe the most severely wrung,
He put on careless airs, and sate and sung.
How sore I gall'd him, only heav'n could know,
And he that felt, and I that caus'd the woe.
Still warms me to the bottom of my heart.
This wicked world was once my dear delight;
Now all my conquests, all my charms good night!
The flour consum'd, the best that now I can,
Is e'en to make my market of the bran.
My fourth dear spouse was not exceeding true;
He kept, 'twas thought, a private miss or two:
But all that score I paid—as how? you'll say,
Not with my body, in a filthy way—
But I so dress'd, and danc'd, and drank, and din'd;
And view'd a friend, with eyes so very kind,
As stung his heart, and made his marrow fry
With burning rage, and frantic jealousy.
His soul, I hope, enjoys perpetual glory,
For here on earth I was his purgatory.
Oft', when his shoe the most severely wrung,
He put on careless airs, and sate and sung.
How sore I gall'd him, only heav'n could know,
And he that felt, and I that caus'd the woe.
He