Tales and Novels of J. de La Fontaine — Complete. Jean de la Fontaine

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      THE husband 'tween the sheets himself had plac'd;

      The nymph was in her petticoat, unlac'd;

      When suddenly appear'd the wily wife,

      And promis'd harmony was turn'd to strife.

      Are these your freaks, cried she with mark'd surprise;

      Your usual dish it seems then don't suffice;

      You want, indeed, to have some nicer fare?

      A little sooner, by the saints I swear,

      You'd me a pretty trick, 'tis clear, have shown,

      And doubtless, then, tit bits to keep been prone.

      This, howsoe'er, to get you're not design'd,

      So elsewhere you may try what you can find.

      And as to you, miss Prettyface, you jade,

      Good heav'ns! to think a paltry servant maid

      Should rival me? I'll beat you black and blue!

      The bread I eat, indeed, must be for you?

      But I know better, and indeed am clear,

      Not one around will fancy I appear

      So void of charms, so faded, wither'd, lost,

      That I should out of doors at once be tost;

      But I will manage matters:—I design

      This girl no other bed shall have than mine;

      Then who so bold to touch her there will dare?

      Come, Miss, let's to my room at once repair;

      Away—your things to-morrow you can seek;

      If scandal 'twould spread around, I'd wreak

      My vengeance instantly, and turn you out;

      But I am lenient, and desire no rout;

      Perhaps your ruin may be sav'd by care;

      So night and day your company I'll share;

      No more my bosom then will feel dismay,

      For I shall see that you no frolicks play.