Let purple gaiters, clasp thine ankles fine In noble leather, that no dust or mire Blemish thy foot; down from thy shoulders flow Loosely a tunic fair, thy shapely arms Cased in its closely-fitting sleeves, whose borders Of crimson or of azure velvet let The heliotrope's color tinge. Thy slender throat, Encircle with a soft and gauzy band. Thy watch already Bids thee make haste to go. O me, how fair The Arsenal of tiny charms that hang With a harmonious tinkling from its chain! What hangs not there of fairy carriages And fairy steeds so marvelously feigned In gold that every charger seems alive? This magnificent swell, of the times when swells had the world quite their own way, finds his lady already surrounded with visitors when he calls to revere her, as he would have said, and he can therefore make the more effective arrival. Entering her presence he puts on his very finest manner, which I am sure we might all study to our advantage. Let thy right hand be pressed against thy side Beneath thy waistcoat, and the other hand Upon thy snowy linen rest, and hide Next to thy heart; let the breast rise sublime, The shoulders broaden both, and bend toward her Thy pliant neck; then at the corners close Thy lips a little, pointed in the middle Somewhat; and from thy month thus set exhale A murmur inaudible. Meanwhile her right Let her have given, and now softly drop On the warm ivory a double kiss. Seat thyself then, and with one hand draw closer Thy chair to hers, while every tongue is stilled. Thou only, bending slightly over, with her Exchange in whisper secret nothings, which Ye both accompany with mutual smiles And covert glances that betray, or seem At least, your tender passion to betray. It must have been mighty pretty, as Master Pepys says, to look at the life from which this scene was painted, for many a dandy of either sex doubtless sat for it. The scene was sometimes heightened by the different humor in which the lady and the cavalier received each other, as for instance when they met with reproaches and offered the spectacle of a lover's quarrel to the company. In either case, it is for the hero to lead the lady out to dinner. With a bound Rise to thy feet, signor, and give thy hand Unto thy lady, whom, tenderly drooping, Support thou with thy strength, and to the table Accompany, while the guests come after you. And last of all the husband follows.... Or rather-- If to the husband still The vestige of a generous soul remain, Let him frequent another board; beside Another lady sit, whose husband dines Yet somewhere else beside another lady, Whose spouse is likewise absent; and so add New links unto the chain immense, wherewith Love, alternating, binds the whole wide world.