(An energetic VOICE.)

'Tis thou, ANTOINE? Ah, Addle-pate!
Ah, Thief of Valet, always late!
Have I not told thee half-past eight

What lungs! The infamous Soubrette!

This is a turn I sha'n't forget :

To make me sing my chansonnette
Before old JOURDAIN's door!

(Retiring slowly.)

And yet, and yet,-it can't be she.
They prompted her. Who can it be?

(A second VOICE.)

IT WAS THE ABBÉ TI--RI-LI!

(In a mocking falsetto.)

"Where Gods can be mistaken,
Mere Poets must be more,-
BAD POETS must be more."

THE CAP THAT FITS

'Qui sème épines n'aille déchaux."

SCENE. A Salon with blue and white Panels. Outside, Persons pass and re-pass upon a Terrace.

HORTENSE. ARMANDE. MONSIEUR LOYAL.

HORTENSE (behind her fan).

NOT young, I think.

ARMANDE (raising her eye-glass).

And faded, too !—

Quile faded! Monsieur, what say you?

M. LOYAL.

Nay, I defer to you. In truth,
To me she seems all grace and youth.

HORTENSE.

Graceful? You think it?

What, with hands

That hang like this (with a gesture).

ARMANDE.

And how she stands!

M. LOYAL.

Nay, I am wrong again. I thought
Her air delightfully untaught !

HORTENSE.

But you amuse me―

M LOYAL.

Still her dress,

Her dress at least, you must confess—

ARMANDE.

Is odious simply! JACOTOT
Did not supply that lace, I know;
And where, I ask, has mortal seen
A hat unfeathered!

HORTENSE.

Edged with green!!

M. LOYAL.

The words remind me. Let me say
A Fable that I heard to-day.
Have I permission?

BOTH (with enthusiasm).

Monsieur, pray!

M. LOYAL.

"Myrtilla (lest a Scandal rise
The Lady's Name I thus disguise),
Dying of Ennui, once decided—

Much on Resource herself she prided--

To choose a Hat.

Forthwith she flies

On that momentous Enterprise.
Whether to Petit or Legros,

I know not: only this I know ;-
Head-dresses then, of any Fashion,
Bore Names of Quality or Passion.
Myrtilla tried them, almost all :

Prudence,' she felt, was somewhat small;

'Retirement' seemed the Eyes to hide;

Content,' at once, she cast aside.

'Simplicity,'-'twas out of Place; 'Devotion,' for an older Face;

Briefly, Selection smaller grew,

'Vexatious!' odious!-none would do!

Then, on a Sudden, she espied

One that she thought she had not tried :

Becoming, rather,

edged with green,'—

Roses in yellow, Thorns between.

'Quick! Bring me that!' 'Tis brought. 'Complete, Superb, Enchanting, Tasteful, Neat,'

In all the Tones. 'And this you call·
"ILL-NATURE," Madame. It fits all."

HORTENSE.

?'