Line 27.
Quips and cranks, and wanton wiles,
Nods and becks, and wreathed smiles.
Line 33.
Come, and trip it as you go,
On the light, fantastic toe.
Line 67.
And every shepherd tells his tale
Under the hawthorn in the dale.
Line 79.
Where perhaps some beauty lies,
The Cynosure of neighboring eyes.
Line 117.
Towered cities please us then,
And the busy hum of men.