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Suffices that, for this our Tale,
There dwelt in a Thessalian Vale,
Of Tales like this the frequent Scene,
A Shepherdess, by name Dorine.
Trim Waist, ripe Lips, bright Eyes, had she ;
In short, -the whole Artillery.
Her Beauty made some local Stir ;-
His fable on his second leaf.
There, they shall know who 'twas that wrote:"L'ÉTOILE's is but a mock-bird's note."
THE ABBÉ (waking).
Implored's the word, I think. But where,-
(not in Ovid.)
"The Shepherdess Dorine adored
Our Abbe's Aid the Pair Implored ;And changed to Goose and Gander, The Shepherdess Dorine adored
The Shepherd-Boy Clitander!"
L'ÉTOILE,—by all the Muses!
He 's off, post-haste, to tell the rest.
Next time 'twill be my turn to play.
THE SONG OUT OF SEASON.
"Point de culte sans mystère."
SCENE. A Corridor in a Château, with Busts and Venice chandeliers.
M. L'ÉTOILE (carrying a Rose).
HIS is the place. MUTINE said here. 66 'Through the Mancini room, and near The fifth Venetian chandelier. . .”
The fifth ?-She knew there were but four ;
Still, here's the busto of the Moor.
Tra-la, tra-la! If BIJOU wake,
She'll bark, no doubt, and spoil my shake!
"When Jove, the Skies' Director,
He cried aloud for Nectar,
"The Nectar quickly pour,-
(No sound. I'll tap once more.)
He past you where you lay;
(A rustling within.)
(Coquette! She heard before.)
(Sings again.) "And urchin Cupid after Beside the Pillow curled, He whispered you with Laughter, 'Awake and witch the World,O Venus, witch the World!"" (Now comes the last. 'Tis scarcely worse, I think, than Monsieur l'ABBÉ's verse.)
"So waken, waken, waken,
O You, whom we adore! Where Gods can be mistaken, Mere Mortals must be more,Poor Mortals must be more!"
(That merits an encore!)
"So waken, waken, waken!
O YOU whom we adore!"
(An energetic VOICE.) 'Tis thou, ANTOINE? Ah, Addle-pate! Ah, Thief of Valet, always late! Have I not told thee half-past eight A thousand times!
But wait, but wait,
M. L'ÉTOILE (stupefied).
And yet, and yet,-it can't be she.
(A second VOICE.)
IT WAS THE ABBÉ TI-RI—LI!