IT happened that one night a married dame, Desirous to convey the monks their claim, And walking with her spouse just by the spot, Where dwelled the arch contrivers of the plot, Good Heavens! said she, I well remember now, I've business with a friar here, I vow; 'Twill presently be done if you'll but wait; Religious duties we must ne'er abate. What duties? cried the husband with surprise; You're surely mad:--'tis midnight I surmise; Confess yourself to-morrow if required; The holy fathers are to bed retired. That makes no difference, the lady cried.-- 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: YOU do 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. THE husband 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.