’Tis scenes of polished life which prompt our longings,
’Tis Fashion’s self, that points out public places,
And intimates Bon Ton to well-bred females.
Bon Ton, thou heart-reviving, pleasing thought!
Thro’ what variety of frolic parties;
Thro’ what bright scenes and changes may we pass;
The brilliant masquerade lies straight before me,
But gods and milk-maids, clowns and demons throng it.—
Here will I hold—if there’s a Queen of Fashion,
(And that there is, each milliner declares