And, to prolong the pleasing strife,
A spoon when he desires a knife.
At last he'll do what fits his station,—
Or never more get invitation.
Whoe'er comes in, whoe'er goes out,
Your game is sure for ball or rout.
To fortune straight you'll make your way,
If once your Lady takes to play;
It pays beyond all formal dinners,
Only pay homage to the winners,