When you do dance, I wish you a wave o' the sea, that you might ever do nothing but that.
For you and I are past our dancing days.
You Jig, you amble, and you lisp.
Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
I have trod a measure, I have flattered a lady, I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy.
He capers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes verses, he speaks holiday, he smells April and May.
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
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