So, this is Hurlingham! Accursed place!
The fell destroyer of our harmless race,
Centre of fashion, haunt of lords and ladies,
A whited sepulchre, a dazzling Hades.
From Monday here we’re massacred till Saturday,
But murdered worse than ever on the latter day;
For then conspire the “Upper Ten” to vex us,
“Omnis ætatis utriusque sexus,”
With jealous hearts, intent to shed the blood
Which, like their own, dates backwards to the Flood,