  I am no merry monger when I see the slatterns of the town: I hate to think of docile men Whose angers all are driven down; For sluts make joy a thing obscene, And in contempt is nothing clean. I like to see the ladies walk With heels to set their chins atilt: I like to hear the clergy talk Of other clergy’s people’s guilt; For happy is the amorous eye, And indignation clears the sky. |
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