How long our feasts, how long our dinners, last:
Nor let the fair with a contemptuous sneer,
On these unmarry’d men reflections cast!
The splendid fortune and the beauteous face
(Themselves confess it, and their sires bemoan)
Too soon are caught by scarlet and by lace:
These sons of Science shine in black alone.
Forgive, ye fair, th’ involuntary fault,
If these no feats of gayety display,
Where thro’ proud Ranelagh’s wide-echoing vault