There Is An Ape In Paris, To Which Was Given A Wife: Like Many A One That Marries, This Ape, In Brutal Strife, Soon Beat Her Out Of Life. Their Infant Cries, - Perhaps Not Fed, - But Cries, I Ween, In Vain; The Father Laughs: His Wife Is Dead, And He Has Other Loves Again, Which He Will Also Beat, I Think, - Return'D From Tavern Drown'D In Drink. For Aught That's Good, You Need Not Look Among The Imitative Tribe; A Monkey Be It, Or What Makes A Book - The Worse, I Deem - The Aping Scribe.