MEN WHO HAVE TAKEN ME IN—TO DINNER.
(By a Dinner-Belle.)
No. II.—DON JUAN SENIOR.
To share with men the prandial gloom
Of union forced that fatal custom
Decrees to wither "youth and bloom,"
(The phrase is from Sohrab and Rustum)
I've suffered boredom to the full;
Professors dull—of Hindostani!
Dull wits, dull statesmen, dandies dull—
He wasn't dull—was Don GIOVANNI.
A widower fêted far and wide,
The jauntiest Rake who drinks the waters,
Smartest of "smart" vulgarians, pride
And terror of his decent daughters;
Old Don GIOVANNI, fraught with warm
Flirtations, free to fling his cash on
The dining Duchess, "mould of form!"
Antique, good-looking "glass of fashion."
He gossiped how the Viscount bets
(Some heiress he must really "pick up"),
How noble dames smoke cigarettes
And noble heels in ballets kick up.
How "H.R.H."—n'importe! my friend
Experience shows me that the laches
Of such as air these letters tend
In the direction of their "H"'s.
He chatted next of German Spas,
Of Continental, English "P.B.'s,"
And how our matchmaking Mammas
Are scared by Transatlantic Hebes,
How he with Royalties had graced
The latest function—genial patrons—
While Beauty, perched on barrows, raced
Before the virtuous British matrons.
And then his compliments began
To rain like drops of Frangipanni,
A most insinuating man
He was, this ancient DON GIOVANNI.
You felt, if you could half believe,
You'd but to word a whim to find it,
You quite forgot he owned a sleeve,
And several teeth to laugh behind it.
There may be kindness, lofty souls,
Great Brains, and whatso ne'er grows older,
Him the Material controls:
He shrugs a sleek, good-natured shoulder.
Time scatters dalliance, joy, and joke;
Your choicest vintage passes; e'en your
Supreme tobacco ends in smoke—
And so will poor DON JUAN, Senior.
MRS. MALAPROP is much puzzled at the announcement that it is proposed to construct a new Tubercular Railway between England and France.