Chapter 143 of 372 · 60 words · ~1 min read

LXXXIX.

"That Lady is _my wife!_" Much wonder paints The lady's changing cheek, as well it might; But where an Englishwoman sometimes faints, Italian females don't do so outright; They only call a little on their Saints, And then come to themselves, almost, or quite; Which saves much hartshorn, salts, and sprinkling faces, And cutting stays, as usual in such cases.