Old tabbies at cards, over old fashion’d fans,
Peeping, cheating, and squinting in each others hands.
VIII.
Then at dinners and concerts see fidlers so fine,
Bolt hot macaroni, drink rare foreign wine;
There musical dames, at each shift and each shake,
Die away, “amoroso,” for fiddle-stick’s sake.
IX.
In a vortex of dust, thro’ the sun’s scorching ray,
A rotten-row ride on a Sunday how gay;