My lute doth troll the longings of my heart; Deep-rooted there Are forms so fair Whose mem'ry of my life doth form a part. II. But like the knights of old, when action calls, My Lady fair, With raven hair, Must be forgot till lovelit twilight falls. III. But then those forms angelic in each line, With happy smile Which doth beguile, Appear before me, whisp'ring love divine. _Quezox soliloquizes:_ But Venus, though enwrapped by passion's robe, Like mortals, tires and seeks her restful bow'r, While duties stern demanding thought profound So that the morrow's needs were ably met, Shall for the nonce supplant within my mind All dreams of those who, fairy-like, do waft Themselves unbidden to my mental home Unless most firm resolve doth bar them hence. But at the throne of Wisdom I must kneel And suppliant pray for light to guide my steps For there be deep entanglements to snare My feet, if circumspection aids me not. This Carpen hath a sleek and subtle mind Full well equipped for all stern duty's calls; Hence we who seek to tread in Freedom's path Find him a stumbling block to be removed. But we with clever strategy must work And hide our deep design in honey'd words, For he hath wisely kept his lips well sealed, Thus leaving us without just cause for plaint, Methinks 'tis hard to gauge this gentleman, For silence wise is oft misunderstood; Behind it Wisdom, hidden, may abide, Of Folly it may make her secret home. Of import weighty is the post he holds, But from it we must shrewdly pry him out, For he may Francos slyly misinform And so delay fruition of our hopes. _(Claps his hands; enter muchacho.)_ _Muchacho:_ What wouldst thou, sir; mine ears did hear the call, So quick I haste with "Scotch and soda" primed. _Quezox:_ Go to, thou vermin, that shouldst dare presume To quick determine what shall quench my thirst. Hast thou not heard that vintage of the vine Since Caesar hath th' imperial crown assumed Is now become the only proper draught For those who in his favor high would stand? Hence "grape juice" bring, and speed thee, or the back Shall feel the stripes thy varlet hide demands. _Muchacho:_ I beg, Senor, my feeble speech be heard: Methought that "grape juice" were a childish pap, But I will bring it and an orangeade,