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Poetry Magnum Opus

Pride and Prejudice (the sequel)


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After the wedding,

great joy: Elizabeth Bennett

is now Mrs. Darcy!

Her mother can die of happiness.


Darcy is gentle in the bed

on the first night; in fact,

nothing happens, no stained sheets

to delight the examining servants.


Slowly, gradually, the lovers

discover love; O Lord, such a fine,

unexpected ... sudden revelation:

the wonders of physical difference!


Mr. Collins would have been scandalized.


A jolly good shag

is an act of worship.

So nice if it's your legal wife.

Nice, also, if she has no headaches.

They all do, the wives, you know,

but not so much the girlfriends.


Elizabeth meets the servants:

the cook, in particular, thinks

who is this jumped-up little snip?

The ancient, hooded-eyed butler

with his tip of five guineas in gold,

warns them all to behave.


Mister Darcy goes away,

Elizabeth remains behind.

The servants seek their chance.

There is no chance.

Elizabeth is sweet but tough as nails,

and the 5-guinea butler backs her.


Mister Bingley and Jane have a girl,

how the village rejoices!

Mister Darcy and Elizabeth

have nothing to show

for all their passion: oh, dear.


Years proceed.


Bingley and Jane have another three

but Darcy and Lizzie have none.

They try (energetically) but by and by

Stop. The servants murmur,

the years proceed.


Darcy spends more time in London,

on business, he says. There he meets

a beguiling lady. Matters entangle

and soon a b------ son is born.

Darcy sees his only child and loves him.


Oh dear, oh dear.


Elizabeth resides at home,

sole mistress of a Palladian mansion.

She is barren, lonely, and suspicious,

so when mud-stained galloping Darcy

returns, on his exhausted horse,

she makes the fatal feminine

mistake of accusation.


Darcy dismisses the servants,

sits in a room lit by seven candles.

Alarmed by the state of his difficult wife,

now so tearful, haggard and gaunt,

he reflects, irritated, guilty, over his port,

and thinks but does not say --

God, I wish I'd never married her!

Drown your sorrows in drink, by all means, but the real sorrows can swim

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