Chapter 32 of 163 · 52 words · ~1 min read

VIII.

Could the stage be a large vis-à-vis, Reserved for the polished and great, Where each happy lover might see The nymph he adores tête-à-tête; No longer I'd gaze on the ground, And the load of despondency lug, For I'd book myself all the year round, To ride with the sweet Lady Mugg.