And then contrives to pitch away
As "rubbish" (which it is) my Play?
My Housemaid.

Who guards within her jealous care,
Mending or marking, till I swear,
The underclothes I long to wear?
My Housemaid.

Who cultivates a habit most
Perverse, of running to "The Post"
To meet her brothers (_such_ a host!)?
My Housemaid.

Who, _if_ she spends her "Sundays out"
At Chapel, as she does, no doubt,
Must be protractedly devout?
My Housemaid.

Who takes my novels down (it must
Be, as she vows, of course, "to dust"),
And thumbs them, much to my disgust?
My Housemaid.

Who "can't abide" a play or ball,
But dearly loves a Funeral,
Or Exeter's reproachless Hall?
My Housemaid.

Who late returning thence, in fits