1940Pack, pack, begone, the ferryman does stay
To waft thy paunch o'er th' Acherontic bay.
But peace, Bellama, dost thou think it fit
To value at so mean a price thy pearl?
Applaud thyself, count it a point of wit
To take a cowlist and refuse an earl.
The world shall be uncentred, ere 't be said
Beauty takes lodging in an humble maid.
What then? shall every fashion fashion me,
As in religion by the church's eye,