To turn,--and to return;--the Devil take it! This story slips for ever through my fingers, Because, just as the stanza likes to make it, It needs must be--and so it rather lingers; This form of verse began, I can't well break it, But must keep time and tune like public singers; But if I once get through my present measure, I'll take another when I'm next at leisure. LXIV. They went to the Ridotto ('tis a place To which I mean to go myself to-morrow,[228] Just to divert my thoughts a little space Because I'm rather hippish, and may borrow Some spirits, guessing at what kind of face May lurk beneath each mask; and as my sorrow Slackens its pace sometimes, I'll make, or find, Something shall leave it half an hour behind.) LXV. Now Laura moves along the joyous crowd, Smiles in her eyes, and simpers on her lips; To some she whispers, others speaks aloud; To some she curtsies, and to some she dips, Complains of warmth, and this complaint avowed, Her lover brings the lemonade, she sips; She then surveys, condemns, but pities still Her dearest friends for being dressed so ill. LXVI. One has false curls, another too much paint, A third--where did she buy that frightful turban? A fourth's so pale she fears she's going to faint, A fifth's look's vulgar, dowdyish, and suburban, A sixth's white silk has got a yellow taint, A seventh's thin muslin surely will be her bane, And lo! an eighth appears,--"I'll see no more!" For fear, like Banquo's kings, they reach a score. LXVII. Meantime, while she was thus at others gazing, Others were levelling their looks at her; She heard the men's half-whispered mode of praising And, till 'twas done, determined not to stir; The women only thought it quite amazing That, at her time of life, so many were Admirers still,--but "Men are so debased, Those brazen Creatures always suit their taste." LXVIII. For my part, now, I ne'er could understand Why naughty women--but I won't discuss A thing which is a scandal to the land, I only don't see why it should be thus; And if I were but in a gown and band, Just to entitle me to make a fuss, I'd preach on this till Wilberforce and Romilly Should quote in their next speeches from my homily. LXIX. While Laura thus was seen, and seeing, smiling, Talking, she knew not why, and cared not what, So that her female friends, with envy broiling, Beheld her airs, and triumph, and all that; And well-dressed males still kept before her filing, And passing bowed and mingled with her chat; More than the rest one person seemed to stare With pertinacity that's rather rare.