The Rubáiyát of a Bachelor

WHAT! Would you cast a loving Woman hence? Thou, Fickle One, prepare for penitence! Full many a golden ducat shall you pay To drown the memory of such insolence. AND every note, that, in your cups, you write, In cold black Type, perchance shall see the light; While all the World, across its coffee urn, Shall titter gaily at the sorry sight. AH yes! For all the papers, which discussed Your wedding plans, shall turn your cake to crust, Publish your letters and your photographs, And trail your Egotism in the dust!