At the Palazzo, the cook’s cook had a team of servants under him. Rhea writhed and scuttled about like a crab. Smith, now, being more than half-seas over, became very uproarious, and, claiming the attention of the table, volunteered the following DRINKING SONG. "I was about to add," continued Gay, "that my opera shall have no music except the good old ballad tunes. You could walk the city streets and with every blink you could take in a new sight of beauty so great that your heart would weep for it.
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