ORTHODOX
Not a claw, no tail I see!
And yet, beyond a cavil,
Like “the Gods of Greece,” must he
Also be a devil.
NORTHERN ARTIST
I only seize, with sketchy air,
Some outlines of the tourney;
Yet I betimes myself prepare
For my Italian journey.
PURIST
My bad luck brings me here, alas!
How roars the orgy louder!
And of the witches in the mass,
But only two wear powder.
YOUNG WITCH
Powder becomes, like petticoat,
A gray and wrinkled noddy;
So I sit naked on my goat,
And show a strapping body.
MATRON
We’ve too much tact and policy
To rate with gibes a scolder;
Yet, young and tender though you be,
I hope to see you moulder.