To AURELIUS THE SKINFLINTAurelius, father of the famisht crew,
Not sole of starvelings now, but wretches who
Were, are, or shall be in the years to come,
My love, my dearling, fain art thou to strum.
Nor privately; for nigh thou com'st and jestest
And to his side close-sticking all things questest.
'Tis vain: while lay'st thou snares for me the worst,
By . . . . I will teach thee first.
An food-full thus do thou, my peace I'd keep:
But what (ah me ! ah me !) compels me weep
Are thirst and famine to my dearling fated.
Cease thou so doing while as modest rated,
Lest to thy will thou win—but . . . .