Mood and Figure Bride


My Logic professor recited this poem (without any aids).

O what midnight curse has he,
whose side Is pestered with a mood and figure bride?
Let mine, ye gods! (if such must be my fate)
No logic learn, nor history translate;
But rather be a quiet, humble fool:
I hate a wife to whom I go to school,
Who climbs the grammar tree, distinctly knows
Where noun, and verb, and participle grows;
Corrects her country neighbour; and a-bed
For breaking priscian’s breaks her husband’s head.