Poem by Matthew Prior

Fatal Love

Poor Hal caught his death standing under a spout
Expecting till midnight when Nan would come out;
But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame,
And cursed was the weather that quench'd the man's flame.
Whoe'er thou art that reads these moral lines,
Make love at home, and go to bed betimes. 

1. Cloe Jealous
2. If Wine and Music Have the Power
3. Answer to Cloe Jealous. The Author Sick
4. Upon This Passage In Scaligeriana
5. The Thief and Cordelier

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