DANCER
A newer chorus now succeeds!
I hear the distant drumming.
“Don’t be disturbed! ’tis, in the reeds,
The bittern’s changeless booming.”
DANCING-MASTER
How each his legs in nimble trip
Lifts up, and makes a clearance!
The crooked jump, the heavy skip,
Nor care for the appearance.
GOOD FELLOW
The rabble by such hate are held,
To maim and slay delights them:
As Orpheus’ lyre the brutes compelled,
The bagpipe here unites them.
DOGMATIST
I’ll not be led by any lure
Of doubts or critic-cavils:
The Devil must be something, sure,—
Or how should there be devils?
IDEALIST
This once, the fancy wrought in me
Is really too despotic:
Forsooth, if I am all I see,
I must be idiotic!