Never was any less presuming seen!
It shrinks, so modestly, from observation!
And hides behind all sorts of evergreen;—
Like a coy Maid, design’d for filthy Man,
Peeping, at his approach, behind her fan.
Into this place, unnotice’d by beholders,
The Duke of Limbs, most circumspectly, stole,
And shot the Friar off his shoulders,
Just like a sack of round Newcastle coal:
Not taking any pains,