Even so, my beloved Mrs. Bank, it must be;
This paying in cash plays the devil with wooing:
We've both had our swing, but I plainly foresee
There must soon be a stop to our _bill_ing and cooing.
Propagation in reason—a small child or two—
Even Reverend Malthus himself is a friend to;
The issue of some folks is moderate and few—
But ours, my dear corporate Bank, there's no end to!
So—hard tho' it be on a pair, who've already
Disposed of so many pounds, shillings and pence;
And in spite of that pink of prosperity, Freddy,[1]
So lavish of cash and so sparing of sense—
The day is at hand, my Papyria[2] Venus,
When—high as we once used to carry our capers—
Those soft billet-doux we're now passing between us,
Will serve but to keep Mrs. Coutts in curl-papers:
And when—if we still must continue our love,
(After all that has past)—our amour, it is clear,
Like that which Miss Danäe managed with Jove,
Must all be transacted in bullion, my dear!
February, 1826.
[1] Honorable Fredrick Robinson.
[2] So called, to distinguish her from the Aure or Golden Venus.
DIALOGUE BETWEEN A SOVEREIGN AND A ONE POUND NOTE.
"o ego non felix, quam tu fugis, ut pavet acres agna lupos, capreaeque leones."—HOR.