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Rh

If it be true! It is not: nought is true That can throw speck or spot upon her virtue.

Be not so angry, man; my husband means Against her maiden virtue no reproach, Ev'n if her faith was papishly inclined.

She was no Papish; I'll take oath upon it. The cloven foot of Satan in my shoe Is at this point of time as surely buckled, As that she was aught but a pure believer,— A good and godly lady.

That gentleman, so brave and soldierly, Who lately has return'd from foreign wars, Is a rank Romanist, and has been oft Received by her. But, Lord preserve us all! We, by God's grace, may sit by Satan's side,— Ay, on the self-same settle, yet, the while, Be ne'er one whit the worse.

And I should guess

Hist, hist! the funeral's coming: I hear the heavy wheels, and o'er the top Of all those cluster'd heads I see the feathers,—