A stone and a quarter of beef from my sir-loin. 
If I make it a barrack, the crown is my tenant;
My dear, I have ponder’d again and again on’t: 
In poundage and drawbacks I lose half my rent,
Whatever they give me, I must be content,
Or join with the court in every debate;
And rather than that, I would lose my estate.” 
  Thus ended the knight; thus began his meek wife: 
“It must, and it shall be a barrack, my life. 
I’m grown a mere mopus; no company comes
But a rabble of tenants, and rusty dull rums.[5]
With parsons what lady can keep herself clean? 
I’m all over daub’d when I sit by the Dean. 
But if you will give us a barrack, my dear,
The captain I’m sure will always come here;
I then shall not value his deanship a straw,
For the captain, I warrant, will keep him in awe;
Or, should he pretend to be brisk and alert,
Will tell him that chaplains should not be so pert;
That men of his coat should be minding their prayers,
And not among ladies to give themselves airs.” 
  Thus argued my lady, but argued in vain;
The knight his opinion resolved to maintain. 
  But Hannah,[6] who listen’d to all that was past,
And could not endure so vulgar a taste,
As soon as her ladyship call’d to be dress’d,
Cried, “Madam, why surely my master’s possess’d,
Sir Arthur the maltster! how fine it will sound! 
I’d rather the bawn were sunk under ground. 
But, madam, I guess’d there would never come good,
When I saw him so often with Darby and Wood.[7]
And now my dream’s out; for I was a-dream’d
That I saw a huge rat—­O dear, how I scream’d! 
And after, methought, I had lost my new shoes;
And Molly, she said, I should hear some ill news. 
  “Dear Madam, had you but the spirit to tease,
You might have a barrack whenever you please: 
And, madam, I always believed you so stout,
That for twenty denials you would not give out. 
If I had a husband like him, I purtest,
Till he gave me my will, I would give him no rest;
And, rather than come in the same pair of sheets
With such a cross man, I would lie in the streets: 
But, madam, I beg you, contrive and invent,
And worry him out, till he gives his consent. 
Dear madam, whene’er of a barrack I think,
An I were to be hang’d, I can’t sleep a wink: 
For if a new crotchet comes into my brain,
I can’t get it out, though I’d never so fain. 
I fancy already a barrack contrived
At Hamilton’s bawn, and the troop is arrived;
Of this to be sure, Sir Arthur has warning,
And waits on the captain betimes the next morning. 
  “Now see, when they meet, how their honours behave;
’Noble captain, your servant’—­’Sir Arthur, your slave;
You honour me much’—­’The honour is mine.’—­
’’Twas a sad rainy night’—­’But the morning is fine.’—­
’Pray, how does my lady?’—­’My wife’s at your service.’—­
’I think I have seen her picture by Jervas.’—­