I met hard by, in quaker suit,
A youth sedately grave and mute;
And from the maxim, like to like,
Perhaps the sober youth might strike:
Yes, yes, ‘tis he, I’ll lay my life,
Who hopes to get you for his wife.
“But come, my dear, I know you’re wise,
Compare and judge, and use your eyes;
No female yet could e’er behold
The lustre of my red and gold,