Poor Hal caught his death standing under a spout <br />Expecting till midnight when Nan would come out; <br />But fatal his patience, as cruel the dame, <br />And cursed was the weather that quench'd the man's flame. <br />Whoe'er thou art that reads these moral lines, <br />Make love at home, and go to bed betimes.<br /><br />Matthew Prior<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fatal-love-5/
