Miss Jane Cox

SHE

HE is an East Indian and ought to be her grandfather's Heir. At the time I called Mrs. R. was in conference with her up stairs, calling her genteel, interesting and a thousand other pretty things to which I gave no heed, not being partial to 9 days' wonders. Now all is completely changed-they hate her, and from what I hear she is not without faults of a real kind: but she has others which are more apt to make women of inferior charms hate her. She is not a Cleopatra, but she is at least a Charmian. She has a rich Eastern look; she has fine eyes and fine manners. When she comes into a room she makes an impression the same as the Beauty of a Leopardess. She is too fine and too conscious of herself to repulse any Man who may address her — from habit she thinks that nothing particular. I always find myself more at ease with such a woman; the picture before me always gives me a life and animation which I cannot possibly feel with anything inferior. I am at such times too much occupied in admiring to be awkward or on a tremble. I forget myself entirely because I live in her. You will by this time think I am in love with her; so before I go any further I will tell you I she kept me awake one Night as a tune of Mozart's might do. I speak of the thing as a pastime and an amusement than which I can feel none deeper than a conversation with an imperial woman the very "yes" and "no" of whose lips is to me a Banquet. I don't cry to take the Moon home with me in my Pocket nor do I fret to leave her behind me. I like her and her like because one has no sensations -- what we both are is taken for granted. You will suppose I have by this had much talk with her — no such thing - there are the Miss

am not

Reynoldses on the look out. They think I don't admire her because I did not stare at her. They call her a flirt to me. What a want of knowledge! She walks across a room in such a Manner that a Man is drawn towards her with a magnetic Power. This they call flirting ! they do not know things. They do not know what a Woman is. I believe, tho', she has faults—the same as Charmian and Cleopatra might have had. Yet she is a fine thing, speaking in a worldly way: for there are two distinct tempers of mind in which we judge of things-the worldly, theatrical and pantomimical; and the unearthly, spiritual and ethereal-in the former, Buonaparte, Lord Byron, and this Charmian hold the first place in our Minds; in the latter, John Howard, Bishop Horner rocking his child's cradle, and you, my dear Sister, are the conquering feelings. As a Man in the world I love the rich talk of a Charmian; as an Eternal Being I love the thought of you. I should like her to ruin me, and I should like you to save me.

John Keats

The Prioress

XIII

GOOD COMPANY

HER was also a Noune, a Prioresse,

THE

That of hire smylyng was ful symple and coy;

Hire grettest ooth nas but by seynt Loy;

And sche was cleped Madame Eglentyne.
Ful wel sche sang the servisë divyne,
Entuned in hire nose ful semëly;

And Frensch she spak ful faire and fetysly,
After the scole of Stratford attë Bowe,
For Frensch of Parys was to hire unknonne.
At metë wel i-taught was sche withalle,
Sche leet no morsel from her lippës falle,
Ne wette hire fyngres in hire saucë deepe.
Wel cowde sche carie a morsel and wel keepe,
That no dropë ne fille upon hire breste.
In curteisie was set ful moche hire leste.

Hire over lippe wypede sche so clene,
That in hire cuppë was no ferthing sene
Of grecë, whan sche dronken hadde hire draughte.
Ful semely after hir mete sche raughte,
And sikerly sche was of gret disport,
And ful plesaunt, and amyable of port,

And peynede hir to countrefetë cheere
Of Court, and ben estatlich of manere,
And to ben holden digne of reverance.
But for to speken of hir conscience,
Sche was so charitable and so pitous,
Sche wolde weepe if that sche saw a mous
Caught in a trappe, if it were deed or bledde.
Of smalë houndës hadde sche, that sche fedde
With rosted flessh and mylk and wastel breed.
But sore weep sche if oon of hem were deed,
Or if men smot it, with a yerde smerte;
And al was conscience and tendre herte.
Ful semely hire wympel i-pynched was;
Hir nosë streight, her eyën greye as glas;
Hir mouth ful smal, and thereto softe and reed,
But sikerly sche hadde a fair forheed.
It was almost a spannë brood, I trowe;
For hardily sche was not undergrowe.
Ful fetys was hir cloke, as I was war.
Of small coral aboute hir arm sche bar

A peire of bedës gauded al with grene;

And thereon heng a broch of gold ful schene,
On which was first i-writen a crowned A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.

Chaucer

Hester Johnson

TELLA this day is thirty-four,

STELLA

(We sh'an't dispute a year or more :)
However, Stella, be not troubled,

Although thy size and years are doubled
Since first I saw thee at sixteen,
The brightest virgin on the green;
So little is thy form declined;
Made up so largely in thy mind.

O, would it please the gods to split
Thy beauty, size, and years, and wit!
No age could furnish out a pair
Of nymphs so graceful, wise and fair ;
With half the lustre of your eyes,

With half your wit, your years, and size.
And then, before it grew too late,

How should I beg of gentle fate,

(That either nymph might have her swain,)
To split my worship too in twain.

Dean Swift

Mrs. Dingley

HIS day, dear Bec, is thy nativity;

THIS

Had Fate a luckier one, she'd give it ye.

She chose a thread of greatest length,

And doubly twisted it for strength :
Nor will be able with her shears
To cut it off these forty years.
Then who says care will kill a cat?
Rebecca shews they're out in that.
For she, though overrun with care,
Continues healthy, fat, and fair.