Poetry Archives

“The abbe rambles.”—”You, marquis,
   Have put your wig on all awry.”—
“This wine of Cyprus kindles me
   Less, my Camargo, than your eye!”

“My passion”—”Do, mi, sol, la, si.”—
   “Abbe, your villany lies bare.”—
“Mesdames, I climb up yonder tree
   And fetch a star down, I declare.”

“Let each kiss his own lady, then
   The others.”—”Would that I were, too,
A lap-dog!”—”Softly, gentlemen!”—
   “Do, mi.”—”The moon!”—”Hey, how d’ye do?”