High Heaven alone sees such a sight
When Dian wheels her orb by night
With many a starry satellite.
But, Julia, though the mode decree,
By all the rites of Battersea,
That you career in company,
The conscious object of remark,
Whenas the lusty-throated lark
Disporteth o'er the People's Park;
Yet certes it were more discreet,
When Hesper from his vantage-seat
Illuminateth Cannon Street,
To ride with none but me to know
Just how th' enamoured breezes blow
Round your ineffable trousseau!
How say you, sweet? To-morrow, then,
We assignate for half-past ten
Upon the punctual stroke of Ben?
On Cupid's chaste commission bent
We twain will meet, with your consent,
10.30, by the Monument.
Workman (politely, to old Lady, who has accidentally got into a Smoking Compartment). "You don't object to my Pipe, I 'ope, Mum?"