I paid the visit in my best?
What! my best shoes, my feather’d cap,
My new calash, forget them all;
And like the toiling wretches there
Consent upon the hay to sprawl?
Rise! ladies, rise! and quit the field:
I vow I blush to see you there:—
For shame! such mean companions leave,
And to the drawing room repair.
O fie! Miss Julia, do you smile,