PONTIUS (who loves, you know, a joke, Much better than he loves his life) Chanced t'other morning to provoke The patience of a well bred wife. Talking of you, said he, my dear, Two of the greatest wits in town, One asked, if that high furze of hair Was, bona fide, all your own. Her own! most certain, t'other said; For Nan, who knows the thing, will tell ye, The hair was bought, the money paid, And the receipt was signed Ducailly. Pontia (that civil prudent she, Who values wit much less than sense, And never darts a repartee, But purely in her own defence) Replied, these friends of yours, my dear, Are given extremely much to satire! But pr'ythee, husband, let one hear Sometimes less wit, and more good-nature. Now I have one unlucky thought, That would have spoiled your friend's conceit; Some hair I have, I'm sure, unbought: Pray bring your brother wits to see 't. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON DONNE'S POETRY by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE HER LIKENESS by DINAH MARIA MULOCK CRAIK SUNSET AND SUNRISE by EMILY DICKINSON THE BATTLEFIELD by EMILY DICKINSON A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 19. TO AN ATHLETE DYING YOUNG by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN SOMETHING BEYOND by MARY CLEMMER AMES HUDSON SWITZERLAND by JAMES SHERIDAN KNOWLES |