Now this ancient relic of ages past,
This human caricature, worthy of Nast,
This feeble old man, one foot in the grave,
Inspir’d by Cupid, at once became brave.
So he hobbled around, seeking for Ruth,
And found her a widow, blooming in youth.
A widow! ah, yes! now that was a fact,
Possessing much good sense in the abstract;
Sir Thomas was human! why then complain?
We are all human, in sunshine or rain.