CUPID'S ALLEY All day he plays, a single tune! But, by the oddest chances, It suits all kinds of dances; And here, for ages yet untold, Long, long before my ditty, Came high and low, and young and old, And still to-day they come, they go, And just as fancies tally, They foot it quick, they foot it slow, Strange Dance! 'Tis free to Rank and Rags; Here no distinction flatters, Here Riches shakes its money-bags, And Poverty its tatters; Church, Army, Navy, Physic, Law ;- Long locks, gray hairs, bald heads, and a',- Strange pairs! To laughing, light Fifteen Here Prodigal leads down the green A blushing Maid of fifty; Some treat it as a serious thing, And some have danced without the ring And sometimes one to one will dance, And some, they know not how nor why, And some will dance an age or so And some, who like the game, will go And some will vow they're "danced to death," Strange cures are wrought (mine Author saith), Strange cures !-in "Cupid's Alley." It may be one will dance to-day, And dance no more to-morrow; It be one will steal away may And nurse a life-long sorrow; What then? The rest advance evade, Unite, dispart, and dally, Re-set, coquet, and gallopade, Not less-in "Cupid's Alley." CUPID'S ALLEY For till that City's wheel-work vast From off his seat shall tumble ;— THE IDYLL OF THE CARP (The SCENE is in a garden,-where you please, I feed them daily here at morn and night (Throwing bread.) Make haste, Messieurs! Make haste, then! Hurry. See, See how they swim! Would you not say, confess, Some crowd of Courtiers in the audience hall, When the King comes? DENISE. You're jesting! Those gill-marks mean his Order of St. Luke; DENISE. I think I have. But there's another, older and more grave,— THE PRINCESS. Why that's my good chambellan—with his seal. Equips my sweet-pouch, brings me morning flowers, Or chirrups madrigals with old, sweet words, birds And spoke the true note first. No suitor he, Yet loves me too,-though in a graybeard's key. |