“TO THE EARL OF HARCOURT.
“Go, happy gloves, bedeck Earl Harcourt’s hand, And let him know they come from fairy-land, Where ancient customs still retain their reign; To modernize them all attempts were vain. Go, cries Queen Mab, some noble owner seek, Who has a proper taste for the antique.”
Now, no criticising, fair ladies!-the assistant was neither allowed a pen nor a moment, but called upon to help finish, as she might have been to hand a fan. The earl, you may suppose, was sufficiently enchanted.