I'll drive the tear-drop from your eye,
And you again, fair one, shall be
From such a selfish thraldom free--
Take courage, then--look up!

This way, good sir--
Is raging, wild insanity;
Ha! ha! my friend, is that the plea?
Oh, well, we've doctors by the score
Will prove it twenty times, or more,
Or, if it may His Honor please,
Will swear the moon is made of cheese--
Come on, good sir, come on!

Good morning, pious friend!
You wish for ministerial aid
To prove the flaws? Be not afraid--
The ministerial conscience leads
Sometimes to proving of misdeeds,
Which less exalted minds would hold
It nobler to have left untold;
But duty, sir, is stern.

Divorces, Ho! Divorces!
We'll put them through at Dexter speed,
And, this late day, there is no need
Of flying off to Indiana
In such a helter-skelter manner;
We're going to have a train, you know,
'Twill stop, (with patients passing through,)