DUKE HUMPHY, as I understand, Though mentally acuter, His boots are only silver, and His underclothing pewter. A third adorer had the girl, A man of lowly station-- A miserable grov'ling Earl Besought her approbation. This humble cad she did refuse With much contempt and loathing, He wore a pair of leather shoes And cambric underclothing! "Ha! ha!" she cried. "Upon my word! Well, really--come, I never! Oh, go along, it's too absurd! My goodness! Did you ever? "Two Dukes would Mary make a bride, And from her foes defend her"-- "Well, not exactly that," they cried, "We offer guilty splendour. "We do not offer marriage rite, So please dismiss the notion!" "Oh dear," said she, "that alters quite The state of my emotion." The Earl he up and says, says he, "Dismiss them to their orgies, For I am game to marry thee Quite reg'lar at St. George's." (He'd had, it happily befell, A decent education, His views would have befitted well A far superior station.) His sterling worth had worked a cure, She never heard him grumble; She saw his soul was good and pure, Although his rank was humble. [Illustration] Her views of earldoms and their lot, All underwent expansion-- Come, Virtue in an earldom's cot! Go, Vice in ducal mansion! [Illustration] SANS SOUCI I cannot tell what this love may be That cometh to all but not to me. It cannot be kind as they'd imply, Or why do these gentle ladies sigh? It cannot be joy and rapture deep, Or why do these gentle ladies weep? It cannot be blissful, as 'tis said, Or why are their eyes so wondrous red? If love is a thorn, they show no wit Who foolishly hug and foster it. If love is a weed, how simple they Who gather and gather it, day by day! If love is a nettle that makes you smart, Why do you wear it next your heart? And if it be neither of these, say I, Why do you sit and sob and sigh? [Illustration] THOMSON GREEN AND HARRIET HALE (_To be sung to the Air of "An 'Orrible Tale."_) Oh list to this incredible tale Of THOMSON GREEN and HARRIET HALE; Its truth in one remark you'll sum-- "Twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twaddle twum!" Oh, THOMSON GREEN was an auctioneer, And made three hundred pounds a year; And HARRIET HALE, most strange to say, Gave pianoforte lessons at a sovereign a day. [Illustration] Oh, THOMSON GREEN, I may remark, Met HARRIET HALE in Regent's Park, Where he, in a casual kind of way, Spoke of the extraordinary beauty of the day.