The season's catch! His sire, is great in Soap,
His partner's mother yonder sits; with hope
Her watchful eyes are twinkling.
"The twirling twain are silent. Silence sits
Lord of the revel, incubus of wits
Arch palsier of prattle
Yet many a girl here mute's a chatterer sweet,
And many a youth in circles less discrete
Is an 'agreeable rattle.'
"Respectability's austere restraint