If the Coach ran away, or was smashed by a Dray,
Or got into collisions and blocks,
The Page, with a courtesy rare for his years,
Would leap to the ground with inspiriting cheers,
While the Footman allayed her legitimate fears,
And the Coachman sat tight on his box.
At night as they met round an excellent meal,
They would take it in turn to observe:
"What a Lady indeed! . . . what a presence to feel! . . ."
"What a Woman to worship and serve! . . ."