To kiss the tender inward of thy hand:
Whilst my poor lips, which should that harvest reap,
At the wood’s boldness, by thee blushing stand!
To be so tickled they would change their state
And situation with those dancing chips,
O’er whom thy fingers walk with gentle gate,
Making dead wood more blessed than living lips.
Since saucy jacks so happy are in this
Give them thy fingers, me thy lips to kiss.
The harpsichord, we like to call the “Jack and Quill” instrument—for it is played by keys, jacks and quills which pluck its strings, instead of pressing or hammering. This is like a keyboarded zither, and is shaped something like our grand piano.