Lesbia. We few, we few, we happy three!
Derrick. I wish it were but you and me.
Regina. And I'd be gladly quit of you.
Lesbia. Now, now. No quarrelling you two.
Derrick. Like ducks we waddle fast along,
Regina. Quite jolly, though, and going strong.
Lesbia. My rhymes are done, I end the song.
"We're getting silly," continued Lesbia. "I don't think somehow any one of us will ever win the Laureateship."
"More likely qualifying for another volume of Mother Goose's verses," grunted the Stripling.
"You're the goose, fast enough," snapped Regina.