nearly midday
* * * * * * But virtue can itself advance To what the favourite fools of chance By fortune seem design 'd . PARNELL . `` Is your sweet lady out yet , pretty Barbara ? '' inquired Robin Hays of Barbara Iverk , as he met her in the flower-garden of Cecil Place , when it was nearly midday . `` My poor lady is , I am sure , very ill ; or , what is still worse , ill at ease , '' replied the maiden . `` She has not been in bed all night , I know , for the couch was undisturbed this morning , so I just came here to gather her some flowers : fresh flowers must always do one good , and I think I never saw so many in bloom so early . '' `` Barbara , did you ever hear tell of a country they call the East ? ''