FULL DRESS.
"There was a sound of revelry by night,"
(In fact the neighbours couldn't sleep a wink)
Mingled with that of double knocks, and slight
Remarks from coachmen, overcome with drink,
Not indispensable to our narration,
And totally unfit for publication.
There came a knock—a double-treble rap,
That startled all the square from its propriety,
Made Fanny Thompson scream and cling,
To Captain Smith (the artful thing!)
As in a deux temps round they flew,
(The Prima Donna, best of the variety);
Shook the gold oats in Lady Boozle's cap;
Sent Charley Finch in Lucy Lightfoot's lap,
(The rogue had stayed there, but he knew
The folks would talk—quite proper too);
Checked Jeames in an upstair-ward rush,
And with a tray of lemonade,
Fantastic maps of England made
Upon his whilom spotless plush.
(He was discharged next day for insobriety)—
Made Croop revoke;
Brown's only joke,
Arrested ere 'twas said;
His only chance that ev'ning dish'd,
Oh! how he wish'd
To punch that brazen-knocker's lion head.
The circling throng,
Stooping to catch Miss Jenny Linnet's song—
The feeble quavers heard no more.
The knock had quite upset them all,
Sing, Jenny, more than ever small!
In vain thy chirping notes outpour;
Gone is thy light of other days,
One chorus now all voices raise
Of "Who dat knocking at de door?"
"Who can it be?
It must be somebody of some pretension:"
All flock to see
The Great Announced, or hear the footman mention
The name of one, whose birth or prosp'rous dealings
Have given him the true patrician right
Of disregarding other people's feelings.
"A city knight?
Will you be—our Vis à Vis?——
A peer—a minister—a pure Caucasian,
Who has contrived to solve the myst'ry Asian,
Of gaining millions to downright satiety?
The Smythsons see extremely good society!"
The fever waxes hotter,
When enter James,
Who coldly names—
"Mr. and Mrs. Trotter."
Each grey-beard thinks himself a boy again,
And feels inclined to bellow, "Ah-bal-loon!"
Two strange round figures up the staircase strain,
Each like a Lord-Rosse telescopic moon;
With difficulty is the doorway pass'd.
Come! Mrs. Smythson's rooms are full at last.
Full! there's no moving—Mrs. Trotter's skirt
Covers the whole saloon, and Trotter's tie,
(Which Jones—that very oddest fish—
Says is a tie that he could wish
Had bound the Trotter to his home)
In rigid folds on either side
A yard away, and quite as wide,
In search of mischief seems to roam—
With menaced hurt,
Mutely advising each to mind his eye.
And Trotter's sleeve!
Each sleeve would hold two Trotters and a half in it:
One might believe
He'd had it made to hide himself and laugh in it;
And of his pantaloons, the spacious work
Would stamp him as the extra great Grand Turk,
But (what might cause that theory to totter)
No harem of the grandest kind
Could be constructed room to find
For two sultanas such as Mrs. Trotter.
On! sweeping all
Before them like the hay in time of mowing,
Upsetting chairs and tables in the way;
The ornaments, by Mrs. T.'s bouquet
(Of peonies and dahlias all a-blowing)
Brush'd from the mantelpieces, fall;
The fiddlers into corners crouch;
The guests away in dudgeon slouch,
As from the hunter's spear shrink otters,
Impalement on the tie of Trotter fearing—
Into back rooms and closets disappearing.
The halls are empty, Empty—pshaw!
Fill'd—as a new-dined turkey's craw,
By the triumphant and expansive Trotters.
"Now really, Trotter" (Smythson from the door—
He couldn't enter), "tell me what this means.
I'm glad to see you—no one could be more;
But still in good society—these scenes—
You're a good fellow—no one could be better—
I know how very deeply I'm your debtor;
Still, you ought not—
You know that I invited you (I told you)
Purely from the esteem in which I hold you;
And as a wish to come your wife express'd,
I couldn't well refuse; but still, this jest—"
Says Trotter, "What?"
"What? why, my guests are going, every one."
"My eyes," says Trotter, "is the game all finished?
Well, blow me! there's been precious little fun—"
"It isn't that—'tis you who have diminished
The evening's pleasure." "We! well, that's a droll 'un;
We as come here resolved to go the whole 'un—"
"But think—so strangely dress'd!
Yourself a full-sail'd ship—your wife St. Paul's,—
A little outré, it must be confess'd—"
"Well, I'll be blest!"
Exclaim'd the wondering Trotter, "but I calls
That out-and-out. D'ye mean to say that this is
Wot ain't the reg'lar thing? Just hear him, missis!
After the many hog, bull, bob, and tanner
We've spent to get puffed out in this here manner!
It's his own words—I'll keep him to it!
Didn't you say we couldn't come unless
We came togg'd out in regular FULL dress?
What—yes?
Well, then, we thought we'd do it."