In Law When A Neighbour Breaks Your Fence, Cribs From Your Field, Tampers With Rent Or Lease, Touches The Purse Or Pocket, But Wooes Your Wife? No: Take The Old Way Trod When Men Were Men! Guido Preferred The New Path, For His Pains, Stuck In A Quagmire, Floundered Worse And Worse Until He Managed Somehow Scramble Back Into The Safe Sure Rutted Road Once More, Revenged His Own Wrong Like A Gentleman. Once Back 'Mid The Familiar Prints, No Doubt He Made Too Rash Amends For His First Fault, Vaulted Too Loftily Over What Barred Him Late, And Lit I' The Mire Again, The Common Chance, The Natural Over-Energy: The Deed Maladroit Yields Three Deaths Instead Of One, And One Life Left: For Where's The Canon'S Corpse? All Which Is The Worse For Guido, But, Be Frank The Better For You And Me And All The World, Husbands Of Wives, Especially In Rome. The Thing Is Put Right, In The Old Place, Ay, The Rod Hangs On Its Nail Behind The Door, Fresh From The Brine: A Matter I Commend To The Notice, During Carnival That's Near, Of A Certain What's-His-Name And Jackanapes Somewhat Too Civil Of Eves With Lute And Song About A House Here, Where I Keep A Wife. (You, Being His Cousin, May Go Tell Him So.)