Ye Rime of ye Ancient Dowager.
It is an ancient dowager,
And she stoppeth one of three—
By thy kid-gloved hand, and gold rimmed glass,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?
“The Albion’s doors are opened wide,
Its board I would not miss,
Taylor’s forewarn’d, my chop is on,
Dost hear its merry hiss?”
She holds him with her kid-gloved hand: