Just then a conjunction of Venus and Mars,
  Or something peculiar above in the stars,
  Attracted the notice of Signor Ruggieri,
  Who “bolted,” and left him alone with his deary.—­
  Monsieur St. Megrin went down on his knees,
  And the Duchess shed tears large as marrow-fat peas,
    When,—­fancy the shock,—­a loud double-knock,
  Made the lady cry, “Get up, you fool!—­there’s De Guise!”—­
    ’Twas his Grace, sure enough; So Monsieur, looking bluff,
  Strutted by, with his hat on, and fingering his ruff,
  While, unseen by either, away flew the dame
  Through the opposite key-hole, the same way she came;
    But, alack! and alas!  A mishap came to pass,
  In her hurry she, somehow or other, let fall
  A new silk bandana she’d worn as a shawl;
    She used it for drying Her bright eyes while crying,
  Ane blowing her nose, as her beau talk’d of dying!

  Now the Duke, who had seen it so lately adorn her,
  And he knew the great C with the Crown in the corner,
  The instant he spied it, smoked something amiss,
  And said, with some energy, “D——­ it! what’s this?”
    He went home in a fume, And bounced into her room,
  Crying, “So, Ma’am, I find I’ve some cause to be jealous! 
  Look here!—­here’s a proof you run after the fellows! 
  —­Now take up that pen,—­if it’s bad choose a better,—­
  And write, as I dictate, this moment a letter
    To Monsieur—­you know who!” The lady look’d blue;
  But replied with much firmness—­“Hang me if I do!”
    De Guise grasped her wrist With his great bony fist,
  And pinched it, and gave it so painful a twist,
  That his hard gauntlet the flesh went an inch in,—­
  She did not mind death, but she could not stand pinching;
    So she sat down and wrote This polite little note:—­

“Dear Mister St. Megrin, The Chiefs of the League in
Our house mean to dine This evening at nine;
I shall, soon after ten, Slip away from the men,
And you’ll find me upstairs in the drawing-room then;
Come up the back way, or those impudent thieves
Of servants will see you; Yours
CATHERINE OF CLEVES.”

She directed and sealed it, all pale as a ghost,
And De Guise put it into the Twopenny Post. 
St. Megrin had almost jumped out of his skin
For joy that day when the post came in;
He read the note through Then began it anew,
And thought it almost too good news to be true.—­
He clapp’d on his hat, And a hood over that,
With a cloak to disguise him, and make him look fat;
So great his impatience, from half after Four,
He was waiting till Ten at De Guise’s backdoor. 
When he heard the great clock of St. Genevieve chime,
He ran up the back staircase six steps at a time,
He had scarce made his bow, He hardly knew how,
When alas! and alack!  There was no getting back,
For the drawing-room door was bang’d to with a whack;—­