Bold-faced ranger (Perfect stranger) Meets two well-behaved young ladies He’s attractive, Young and active— Each a little bit afraid is. Youth advances, At his glances To their danger they awaken; They repel him As they tell him He is very much mistaken. Though they speak to him politely, Please observe they’re sneering slightly, Just to show he’s acting vainly. This is Virtue saying plainly, “Go away, young bachelor, We are not what you take us for!” (When addressed impertinently, English ladies answer gently, “Go away, young bachelor, We are not what you take us for!”) As he gazes, Hat he raises, Enters into conversation. Makes excuses— This produces Interesting agitation. He, with daring, Undespairing, Gives his card—his rank discloses— Little heeding This proceeding, They turn up their little noses. Pray observe this lesson vital— When a man of rank and title His position first discloses, Always cock your little noses. When at home, let all the class Try this in the looking-glass. (English girls of well-bred notions Shun all unrehearsed emotions, English girls of highest class Practise them before the glass.) His intentions Then he mentions, Something definite to go on— Makes recitals Of his titles, Hints at settlements, and so on. Smiling sweetly, They, discreetly, Ask for further evidences: Thus invited, He, delighted, Gives the usual references. This is business. Each is fluttered When the offer’s fairly uttered. “Which of them has his affection?” He declines to make selection. Do they quarrel for his dross? Not a bit of it—they toss! Please observe this cogent moral— English ladies never quarrel. When a doubt they come across, English ladies always toss. A CLASSICAL REVIVAL AT the outset I may mention it’s my sovereign intention To revive the classic memories of Athens at its best, For my company possesses all the necessary dresses, And a course of quiet cramming will supply us with the rest. We’ve a choir hyporchematic (that is, ballet-operatic) Who respond to the _choreutae_ of that cultivated age, And our clever chorus-master, all but captious criticaster, Would accept as the _choregus_ of the early Attic stage. This return to classic ages is considered in their wages, Which are always calculated by the day or by the week— And I’ll pay ’em (if they’ll back me) all in _oboloi_ and _drachmae_, Which they’ll get (if they prefer it) at the Kalends that are Greek!