There’s the courtier, who watches the nod of the great;
Who thinks much of his pension, and nought of the state:
When for ribands and titles his honour he sells—
What is he, my friends, but a fool without bells?
II.
There’s the gamester, who stakes on the turn of a die
His house and his acres, the devil knows why:
His acres he loses, his forests he sells—
What is he, my friends, but a fool without bells?
III.
There’s the student so crabbed and wonderful wise,
With his plus and his minus, his x’s and y’s:
Pale at midnight he pores o’er his magical spells—
What is he, my friends, but a fool without bells?
IV.
The lover, who’s ogling, and rhyming, and sighing,
Who’s musing, and pining, and whining, and dying:
When a thousand of lies ev’ry minute he tells—
What is he, my friends, but a fool without bells?
V.
There’s the lady so fine, with her airs and her graces,
With a face like an angel’s—if angels have faces:
She marries, and Hymen the vision dispels—
What’s her husband, my friends, but a fool without bells?
Christina, Eleonora, Helmaar, &c.—Bravo! bravissimo!—excellent fool!—Encore.