What is it moves you, my Puck, I beg?
Say, is it purpose, or simple craze?
There is nous and pluck
In our modern Puck,
And many admire him, and some wish him luck;
But the Men of Gotham reached no good goal
By going to sea in an open bowl.
The business of brewing storms may do
For a Witch, my Grandolph, but scarce for you,
And the Petrel-part, played early and late,