Matthew Prior

On Hall’s Death

  An Epigram

Poor HALL caught his death standing under a spout, 
Expecting till midnight when NAN would come out,
But fatal his patience, as cruel the Dame, 
And curst was the Weather that quench’d the man’s flame, 

Whoe’er thou art, that read’st these moral lines, 
Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.