Know, every maid, from her own patten, To her who shines in glossy sattin, That could they now prepare an oglio From best receipt of book in folio, Ever so fine, for all their puffing, I should prefer a butter'd muffin; A muffin Jove himself might feast on, If eat with Miller at Batheaston.

But do not you think that Mr. Prattle's new suit of scarlet sattin was vastly becoming?