a ciliated leaf
… I recognise the two Miss Boulters, the acknowledged queens of Welby society, each of whom has managed to secure a cavalier for escort; Margaret Watson flounces by with young Boulter, a stout, florid youth with an insinuating eye; Jo and Charlotte strut out together arm in arm with a funny imitation of their elders.
Now ſtands the Brere like a Lord alone, / Puffed up with pryde and vaine pleaſaunce: / But all this glee had no continuaunce. / For eftſoones Winter gan to approche, / The bluſtring Boreas did encroche, / And beate upon the ſolitarie Brere: / For nowe no ſuccour was ſeene him neere.
The jokes are cake, and the cake is a lie — fan-service tricking nerds into watching a show designed for adults who vote Republican (Middle America!).
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