I have trod a measure, I have flattered a lady, I have been politic with my friend, smooth with mine enemy.
Come now, what masques, what dances shall we have To wear away this long age of three hours Between our after-supper and bedtime?
Say, what abridgement have you for this evening? What masque, what music? How shall we beguile The lazy time if not with some delight?
For you and I are past our dancing days.
You have dancing shoes with nimble soles. I have a soul of lead.
You Jig, you amble, and you lisp.
Hot and hasty, like a Scotch jig.