You—only you—can tell me, an’ you will, To whom I’m destined shortly to be mated, Will she run up a heavy _modiste’s_ bill? If so, I want to hear her income stated (This is a point which interests me greatly). To quote the bard, “Oh! have I seen her lately?” Say, must I wait till husband number one Is comfortably stowed away at Woking? How is her hair most usually done? And tell me, please, will she object to smoking? The colour of her eyes, too, you may mention: Come, Sibyl, prophesy—I’m all attention. SIR MACKLIN. OF all the youths I ever saw None were so wicked, vain, or silly, So lost to shame and Sabbath law, As worldly TOM, and BOB, and BILLY. For every Sabbath day they walked (Such was their gay and thoughtless natur) In parks or gardens, where they talked From three to six, or even later. SIR MACKLIN was a priest severe In conduct and in conversation, It did a sinner good to hear Him deal in ratiocination. He could in every action show Some sin, and nobody could doubt him. He argued high, he argued low, He also argued round about him. He wept to think each thoughtless youth Contained of wickedness a skinful, And burnt to teach the awful truth, That walking out on Sunday’s sinful. “Oh, youths,” said he, “I grieve to find The course of life you’ve been and hit on— Sit down,” said he, “and never mind The pennies for the chairs you sit on. “My opening head is ‘Kensington,’ How walking there the sinner hardens, Which when I have enlarged upon, I go to ‘Secondly’—its ‘Gardens.’ “My ‘Thirdly’ comprehendeth ‘Hyde,’ Of Secresy the guilts and shameses; My ‘Fourthly’—‘Park’—its verdure wide— My ‘Fifthly’ comprehends ‘St. James’s.’ “That matter settled, I shall reach The ‘Sixthly’ in my solemn tether, And show that what is true of each, Is also true of all, together. “Then I shall demonstrate to you, According to the rules of WHATELY, That what is true of all, is true Of each, considered separately.” In lavish stream his accents flow, TOM, BOB, and BILLY dare not flout him; He argued high, he argued low, He also argued round about him. “Ha, ha!” he said, “you loathe your ways, You writhe at these my words of warning, In agony your hands you raise.” (And so they did, for they were yawning.) To “Twenty-firstly” on they go, The lads do not attempt to scout him; He argued high, he argued low, He also argued round about him. “Ho, ho!” he cries, “you bow your crests— My eloquence has set you weeping; In shame you bend upon your breasts!” (And so they did, for they were sleeping.)