The Ingoldsby Legends :: :: University of Virginia Library

“There's a Lady, young, handsome, beyond all compare, at
A place they call Belmont, whom, when I was there, at
The suppers and parties my friend Lord Mountferrat
Was giving last season, we all used to stare at,
Then, as to her wealth, her solicitor told mine,
Besides vast estates, a pearl fishery, and gold mine,
Her iron strong box Seems bursting its locks,
It's stuffed so with shares in “Grand Junctions,” and “Docks,”
Not to speak of the money's she's got in the stocks,
French, Dutch, and Brazilian, Columbian, and Chilian,
In English Exchequer-bills full half a million,
Not ‘kites,’ manufactured to cheat and inveigle,
But the right sort of ‘flimsy,’ all signed by Monteagle.

Then I know not how much in Canal-shares and Railways
And more speculations I need not detail, ways
Of vesting which, if not so safe as some think'em,
Contribute a deal to improving one's income;
In short, she's a Mint! —Now I say, deuce is in't
If with all my experience, I can't take a hint,
And her ‘eye's speechless messages,’ plainer than print
At the time that I told you of, know from a squint,
In short, my dear Tony, My trusty old crony,
Do stump up three thousand once more as a loan—I
Am sure of my game—though, of course there are brutes,
Of all sorts and sizes, preferring their suits
To her you may call the Italian Miss Coutts,
Yet Portia—she's named from that daughter of Cato's—
Is not to be snapp'd up like little potatoes,
And I have not a doubt I shall rout every lout
Ere you'll whisper Jack Robinson—cut them all out—
Surmount every barrier, Carry her, marry her!
—Then hey! my old Tony, when once fairly noosed,
For her Three-and-a-half per cents—New and Reduced!”