I think it does, the husband straight replied,
          And thither I’ll not let you go to-night:—­
          What heinous sins so terribly affright,
          That in such haste the mind you wish to ease? 
          To-morrow morn repair whene’er you please: 

          Youdo me wrong, rejoined the charming fair;
          I neither want confession nor a prayer,
          But anxiously desire what is due to pay;
          For if incautiously I should delay,
          Long time ’would be ere I the monk should see,
          With other matters he’ll so busy be. 
          But what can you the holy fathers owe? 
          To which the lady said:—­what don’t you know? 
          A tithe, my dear, the friars always claim.—­
          What tithe? cried he; it surely has a name. 
          Not know! astonishingly, replied the wife.—­
          To which the husband answered:—­On my life,
          That women friars pay is very strange;
          Will you particulars with me arrange? 
          How cunningly, said she, you seem to act;
          Why clearly you’re acquainted with the fact? 
          ’Tis Hymeneal works:—­What works? cried he—­
          Lord! said the dame, assuredly you see,
          Why I had paid an hour ago or more
          And you’ve prevented me when at the door;
          I’m sure, of those who owe, I’m not the worst,
          For I, in paying, always was the first.

          Thehusband quite astonished now appeared;
          At once a hundred diff’rent ills he feared;
          But questioning his wife howe’er, he found,
          That many other dames who lived around,
          Like her; in paying tithes, the monks obeyed,
          Which consolation to his breast conveyed. 
          Poor innocent! she nothing wished to hide;
          Said she, not one but tithe they make provide;
          Good friar Aubrey takes your sister’s dues;
          To father Fabry Mrs. B’s accrues;
          The mayoress friar William likes to greet,
          A monk more handsome scarcely you will meet;
          And I to friar Gerard always go;
          I wished this night to pay him all I owe.

          Alas! when tongues unbridled drop disguise,
          What direful ills, what discords oft arise! 
          The cunning husband having thus obtained,
          Particulars of what the fathers gained,
          At first designed in secret to disclose,
          Those scenes of fraud and matrimonial woes: 
          The mayor and citizens should know, he thought;
          What dues were paid:  what tithes the friars sought;
          But since ’twas rather difficult to place,
          Full credence, at the first, in such a case,
          He judged it best to make the fellow speak,
          To whom his wife had shown herself so weak.