(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!

Quite 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 !

VOL. I.-5

65

Is odious simply! JACOTOT

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

HORTENSE.

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, Divine, Enchanting, Tasteful, Neat,'

In all the Tones. ' And this

call you "ILL-NATURE," Madame. It fits all."