SPOKEN BY LADY ALLONBY, WHO ENTERS IN A FLURRY


_The author bade we come_--Lud, I protest!--
_He bade me come_--and I forget the rest.
But 'tis no matter; he's an arrant fool
That ever bade a woman speak by rule.

Besides, his Prologue was, at best, dull stuff,
And of dull writing we have, sure, enough.
A book will do when you've a vacant minute,
But, la! who cares what is, and isn't, in it?

And since I'm but the Prologue of a book,
What I've omitted all will overlook,
And owe me for it, too, some gratitude,
Seeing in reason it cannot be good
Whose author has as much but now confessed,--
For, _Who'd excel when few can make a test
Betwixt indifferent writing and the best?_
He said but now.

And I:--_La, why excel,
When mediocrity does quite as well?
'Tis women buy the books,--and read 'em, say,
What time a person nods, en negligee,
And in default of gossip, cards, or dance,
Resolves t' incite a nap with some romance._