This little glade will be our stage;
These trees and rocks our scenery make;
This shady log will be the place where critics get enchanted.
A comedy is what we’ll raise,
With hose in hose and plays in plays,
A spell of Shakespeare that you may remember ever after.
Our costumes are of stuff so fine,
With subtle tints and lovely lines,
Embroidered in a rare design, embossed, and plumed, and banded.
Consider as you watch our play:
Our every move holds yours at bay;
Our speeches hold you in speechless sway except for tears and laughter.