Jocasta, that married where she should not,
Came hand in hand with the Daughters of Lot;
Till the Devil was fairly sicken'd.


XIX

For the Devil himself, a dev'l as he is,
Disapproves unequal matches.
"O Mother," he cried, "dispatch them hence!
No Spirit--I speak it without offence--
Shall have me in her hatches."


XX

With a wave of her wand they all were gone!
And now came out the slaughter:
"'Tis none of these that can serve my turn;
For a wife of flesh and blood I burn--
I'm in love with a Taylor's Daughter.


XXI

"'Tis she must heal the wounds that she made,
'Tis she must be my physician.
O parent mild, stand not my foe"--
For his mother had whisper'd something low
About "matching beneath his condition."--