Offer them coyly to the Roman herd—
But don't you suit “the action to the word,"
For in that very torrent of your passion
Remember modesty is still in fashion.
Oh, there be ladies whom I've seen hold stalls—
Ladies of rank, my dear—to whom befalls
Neither the accent nor the gait of ladies;
So clumsily made up with Bloom of Cadiz,
Powder-rouge—lip-salve—that I've fancied then
They were the work of Nature's journeymen.