Can hedge, ditch, reap, and sow; can attend to a farm; While his heart is so soft he a flea would not harm. Then he dotes upon children, from Pat's age to Mike's, And those sweet babes of your'n are the sort that he likes. Sure you'll take him at once on my recommendation; For although he's ne'er been in a like situation, He has made it his business to please all the ladies; Ev'ry wish, although nonsense, directly obeyed is." Then her hands clasping tight, on his knees down he plumped, (While the echoing walls cried to hear the floor thumped), Saying, "Sweetest of angels! my darling! my deary! Do just listen a moment, I pray thee, and hear me. For you know that of nectar you are the sweet essence, Those who fail to admire you, than none sure have less sense. 'Tis myself is the slave in whose praise I was speaking, Who, when wedded to you, would be prouder than the king. Then consent to be mine--dearest one, don't say No, Or I out of my senses shall certainly go." Now the good dame the whole, From the depth of her soul, Believed----and her feelings could scarcely control (She, 'tis true, had preferred That the monk had not heard, For where he was hid he must catch ev'ry word), But, much pleased altogether, She was pondering whether To escape out of hearing if she could endeavour. So she said, "Mr. Murphy, if outside you'll walk, On the subject you've mentioned we'll have a short talk, Though I cannot afford a man-servant to keep-- It would ruin me quite!" But her plan was too deep For poor Murphy to guess; who, not knowing her reason, Thought she lov'd some one else, and despising such treason Cried, "Oh, treat me not falsely; my love is most true, And I never will love any other than you. Oh, I cannot thus leave you--I will not depart Till you say, 'I am thine!' thou delight of my heart! O 'tis cruel to keep me thus long in suspense; Your mistaking my meaning is all a pretence. But you women delight so to bother and tease us, When your study should be to make much of and please us; Like an angler ere landing his fish plays about Just for sport, when he knows he might pull him straight out. But remember, there's many a good fish been lost By the snap of a line, which a dinner has cost." "That is meant sure, for me," thought the friar; "no doubt. How I wish the good dame could have coaxed the chap out! For 'tis plain as my face, she's in love with the man; And he jealous may grow, while do all that I can I much trouble may find in him undeceiving. Those fellows are often so hard of believing!"