ALAS! replied the other with a sigh, In vain the nuns my virtue sought to try; 'Twas my misfortune:--patience heav'n bestow; For worlds such wickedness I would not know.
THE miller laughed at what the other spoke; Untied his hands, and ev'ry bandage broke. Said he, thou ninny, scruples can'st thou find To counteract, and prove to pleasure blind? The business clearly should to me belong; Our rector ne'er had thought such conduct wrong, And never would have played the fool like this; Fly, haste away, away; I'll thee dismiss, First having nicely set me in thy place; Like me thou wert not formed for soft embrace; I'm stout and able:--quarter ne'er will ask; Come ALL, these nuns, I'll execute the task, And many pranks they'll see, unless a freak Should happen any way the string to break. The other never asked his wishes twice, But tied him well, and left him in a trice.
WITH shoulders broad the miller you might see; In Adam's birth-attire against the tree, Await the coming of the aged band, Who soon appeared, with tapers in the hand, In solemn guise, and whips and scourges dire: The virgin troop (as convent laws require) In full procession moved around the Wight; Without allowing time to catch his sight, Or giving notice what they meant to do: How now! cried he:--why won't you take a view? Deceived you are; regard me well I pray; I'm not the silly fool you had to-day, Who woman hates, and scruples seeks to raise: Employ but me, and soon I'll gain your praise; I'll wonders execute; my strength appears; And; if I fail, at once cut off my ears. At certain pleasant play I'm clever found; But as to whips--I never was renowned.
WHAT means the fellow? cried a toothless nun; What would he tell us? Hast thou nothing done? How!--Art thou not our brat-begetter?--speak; So much the worse:--on thee our rage we'll wreak, For him that's gone we'll make thee suffer now; Once arms in hand, we never will allow Such characters full punishment to miss; The play that we desire is THIS and THIS; Then whips and scourges round him 'gan to move, And not a little troublesome to prove The miller, writhing with the poignant smart, Cried loudly:--I'll exert my utmost art, Good ladies, to perform what is your due; The more he bawled, the faster lashes flew. This work so well the aged troop achieved, He long remembered what his skin received.