But whether fits, or wits, or harpsichords—

Theology—fine arts—or finer stays,

May be the baits for Gentlemen or Lords

With regular descent, in these our days,

The last year to the new transfers its hoards;

New vestals claim men's eyes with the same praise

Of "elegant" et cætera, in fresh batches—

All matchless creatures—and yet bent on matches.