In their thousand liveries dight,
While the doorkeeper on the stairs,
Bawls for the Marchionesses' chairs
And young dragoons enjoy the crowd,
And dowagers inveigh aloud,
And lovers write a hasty scrawl
Upon the ticket of a shawl.
Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures,
As the circling crowd it measures;
Virgins old with tresses grey,