Beat her, kicked her, caned her, cursed her, left her starving, year by year, Flung her from him, parted from her, wrung her neck, and boxed her ear-- What the reasonable damage this afflicted man could claim, By the loss of the affections of this guilty graceless dame? Then the honest British Twelve, to each other turning round, Laid their clever heads together with a wisdom most profound: And towards his Lordship looking, spoke the foreman wise and sound;-- "My Lord, we find for this here plaintiff, damages two hundred pound." So, God bless the Special Jury! pride and joy of English ground, And the happy land of England, where true justice does abound! British jurymen and husbands, let us hail this verdict proper: If a British wife offends you, Britons, you've a right to whop her. Though you promised to protect her, though you promised to defend her, You are welcome to neglect her: to the devil you may send her: You may strike her, curse, abuse her; so declares our law renowned; And if after this you lose her,--why, you're paid two hundred pound. THE KNIGHT AND THE LADY. There's in the Vest a city pleasant To vich King Bladud gev his name, And in that city there's a Crescent Vere dwelt a noble knight of fame. Although that galliant knight is oldish, Although Sir John as gray, gray air, Hage has not made his busum coldish, His Art still beats tewodds the Fair! 'Twas two years sins, this knight so splendid, Peraps fateagued with Bath's routines, To Paris towne his phootsteps bended In sutch of gayer folks and seans. His and was free, his means was easy, A nobler, finer gent than he Ne'er drove about the Shons-Eleesy, Or paced the Roo de Rivolee. A brougham and pair Sir John prowided, In which abroad he loved to ride; But ar! he most of all enjyed it, When some one helse was sittin' inside! That "some one helse" a lovely dame was Dear ladies you will heasy tell-- Countess Grabrowski her sweet name was, A noble title, ard to spell. This faymus Countess ad a daughter Of lovely form and tender art; A nobleman in marridge sought her, By name the Baron of Saint Bart. Their pashn touched the noble Sir John, It was so pewer and profound; Lady Grabrowski he did urge on With Hyming's wreeth their loves to crownd. "O, come to Bath, to Lansdowne Crescent," Says kind Sir John, "and live with me; The living there's uncommon pleasant-- I'm sure you'll find the hair agree. "O, come to Bath, my fair Grabrowski, And bring your charming girl," sezee; "The Barring here shall have the ouse-key, Vith breakfast, dinner, lunch, and tea. "And when they've passed an appy winter, Their opes and loves no more we'll bar; The marridge-vow they'll enter inter, And I at church will be their Par."