Lightly didst thou dance with one,
Gave another a still touch
With thine elbows slily.

All the fètes we thought of were
Vainly celebrated;

Forfeit games and blind man's buff*—

None would catch a lover.

Many a fool is loose to-day:

Open, dearest, spread thine arms,

Some one may be netted.

(Girls, playfellows, young and beautiful, throng together, their confidential gossip becomes loud.)

(Fishermen and Birdcatchers with nets, fishing-lines, limed twigs, and other tackle, enter and mingle with the pretty girls. Alternate attempts to win, catch, escape, and hold fast, give opportunities to most agreeable dialogues.)

Woodcutters (enter roughly and rudely).

Room! room! make room here!
Room! room we want here.

We fell the tall trees

Which crashing fall down,

And when we bear them
Roughly we jostle.
To our praise do ye
Set forth this clearly,
That, if the rough ones
Had not existence,
How would the fine ones
Ever be found here,
Proud as they are now.
Of this be full certain,
You would be freezing
Were we not sweating.

Punch (clownish, almost silly).

You are the blockheads
Born with your backs bent;

We are the prudent

Who ne'er were burdened,

For our jackets,

Our caps and our patches,

Are easy to carry.

And, always idle,

Still 'tis our pleasure,

With feet clothed in slippers

Having been unable to find the game exactly meant in the German by "Dritter Mann," literally "third man," I have rendered it, hap-hazard, (being of no great consequence) "Blind man's buff."

To run through the market,
And midst the people

Open mouthed standing
Crow at each other.

After such crowings,

Through crowds and throngings

Like the eel gliding,

Together to frolick,
United to riot.

Whether you praise us,
Whether you blame us,

We nothing heed it.

Parasites (coaxing wistfully).

You gallant porters
And your brave kinsmen,
The charcoal burners,-
You are our people;
For all sorts of bowin
Affirmative nodding,
Long-winded phrases,
And double blowing
Warming or cooling.
As each one feels it,
What can it profit?
If, a great wonder,
Down from the heavens
The fire descended,
Were there not faggots,
Cart-loads of coals, too,
To fan into glowing

The hearth and the furnace?
There's roasting and boiling,
There cooking and bubbling,
And the true eater,

The right good plate-licker-
He smells the roast meat,
Fish he forebodes, too;

These make him bold at
The patron's table.

If my wife behind me screaming
Scoffed at this bright coloured coat,
And howe'er myself I prided,
Called me only a masqued block,
Still I'd drink on.

Drink ye! Drink ye!

Clash your glasses! Clink ye!

Clink ye!
Clash your glasses, you masqued blocks,
If they clink well, all is done.

Say not I am gone astraying,

I am where it pleases me:

If host and hostess won't give credit
Then the bar-maid must at last.

Still I'll drink on.

Drink ye! Drink ye!

Drink, my comrades! Clink ye! Clink ye!

Each to t'other, so go on:

Now, I think that's nicely done.

How and where I am contented,

May I, may I always be.

Let me lie here, where I'm lying,

For no longer can I stand.

Chorus. Brothers all, come, drink ye! Drink ye!
Toast again, friends! Clink ye! Clink ye!
Firmly sit on bench and chair,

He that falls-his work is done.

Herald (announces different poets, poets of nature, court and chivalry singers, tender as well as enthusiastic. In the crowd of competitors of every kind, no one lets the other come to speech. One sneaks by with a few words).

Satirist. Do you know what would please me?

The poet, most of all things.

Could I only sing and utter

What nobody would hear me.

(The night and sepulchre-poets send apologies, inasmuch as they are occupied in an interesting conversation with a fresh arisen vampire, from which a new kind of poetry may perhaps be developed: the Herald is compelled to admit their excuse, and meanwhile calls on the Greek mythology, which, though in modern masks, loses neither character nor charms).

Aglaia. We with grace

The Graces.

adorn your manners, In your gifts that grace exhibit.

Hegemone. Show that grace in your receiving.

Pleasure crowns the wish accomplished.

Euphrosyne. In the bounds of these still ev'nings,
Truly graceful be your thanking.

N. S.-VOL. I.

P

The Fates.

Atropos. Me, of all the Fates the eldest,
Here to spin they have invited :
There is room for deep reflection
In these threads of life so tender.
That it might be soft and pliant,
Sorted I of flax the finest :
That it might be smooth and even
Will the cunning finger settle.

If you would in joy and dancings
Show yourselves too madly joyful,
Think upon this thread's thin limits;
Then, beware! It may be broken.

Clotho. Know, that during these last ages
It is mine the shears to bear,
For the conduct and proceeding
Of the old one did not please.
For of spinnings the most useless
Kept she most in light and day;
And the thread of noblest promise
Cutting dashed she to the grave.

I, too, in my youthful practice
Made a slip a hundred times:
Now to keep myself in order,
In the sheath the shears I place.
Gladly therefore am I bridled,
Friendly on this place I look :
In these free and joyful seasons
Riot ever on and on.

Lachesis. To me, alone with reason gifted,
Keeping order was assigned.

I, though I am always lively,
Never have too hasty been.

Threads are coming, threads are reeled,

Each one in its path I guide,

None I suffer to pass over,

All must in the circle join.

Should I be but once mistaken,

I should tremble for the world;

Hours are counted, years are measured,

And the hank the weaver takes.

Herald. You would not know those who are now approaching, If you were e'er so learned in ancient writings:

To look on those who plan so much of evil,

Most welcome of all guests you sure would call them.

They are the furies (no one would believe us),
Pretty, well-shaped, and young in years, and friendly;
Be friends with them, and you will soon discover
How very serpent-like such doves can injure.
They are malicious, yet in this, the season
When every fool is boasting of his failings,
They also do not want the fame of angels,

But call themselves the plagues of town and country.

Alecto. What help for you, for you will surely trust us,
For we are young, and fair, and flattering kittens;
If any 'mongst you ladies have a sweetheart,
We will so long persuade him, so long coax him,
Until we dare, with face to face, to tell him,
That she he loves on this or that is winking,
That she is dull in head, and lame and crooked,
And, if to him betrothed, is good for nothing.
We also know how to torment the lady,
And say, some weeks ago, her love had spoken
Contemptuously of her to one more favoured,
And still, though reconciled, a grudge remaineth.

Megara. That's but a joke! for if they're once united,
I take it up, and always in all cases,

Their greatest joy through their caprice can poison,
Unequal 's man, unequal are the hours;

And no one ever grasped the wished-for firmly,
But that he foolish longed for something better,
From that the highest joy of which he wearied-
He flies the sun, and longs the frost to kindle.
With all these things, I know the way to manage,
And here I bring Asmodeus, the faithful,
Unlucky things to strew in the right season,
And so destroy the human race by couples.

Tisiphone. 'Stead evil tongues, I mix and sharpen,
Poison-daggers,-for the traitor;
Lov'st thou others?-sooner-later,
Will destruction sure transfix thee.

All the sweetest of the moment
Must be turned to gall and poison;
Here's no haggling-here no dealing,—
As he sinned, so must he pay it.
Let none here speak of forgiveness,
To the rocks I will complain me;
Hark! the echo answers, Vengeance!
He who changes, he must perish.

Herald. I pray you, move a little to the back-ground,
For what is coming is not of your kidney;