1Don Pedro from his shirt has washed the fleas
2when masons clutch the breath we held on loan
3his toga rumpled high above his knees
4one gathers rosebuds or grows old alone
5They both are right not untamed mutterings
6nought can the mouse’s timid nibbling stave
7they both are right not unformed smatterings
8to break a rule Britannia’s might might waive
9The peasants’s skirts on rainy days she’d tress
10in indian summers Englishmen drink grog
11poor Yorick comes to bury not address
12We’ll suffocate before the epilogue
13ventriloquists be blowed you strike me dumb
14soliloquies predict great things old chum
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