One after one
’T is like the harper 's prelude on the strings , The prima donna 's courtesy ere she sings ; -- Prologues in metre are to other _ pros _ As worsted stockings are to engine-hose . `` The world 's a stage , '' as Shakspeare said , one day ; The stage a world -- was what he meant to say . The outside world 's a blunder , that is clear ; The real world that Nature meant is here . Here every foundling finds its lost mamma ; Each rogue , repentant , melts his stern papa ; Misers relent , the spendthrift 's debts are paid , The cheats are taken in the traps they laid ; One after one the troubles all are past Till the fifth act comes right side up at last , When the young couple , old folks , rogues , and all , Join hands , _ so _ happy at the curtain 's fall . -- Here suffering virtue ever finds relief , And black-browed ruffians always come to grief , -- When the lorn damsel , with a frantic screech , And cheeks as hueless as a brandy-peach , Cries , `` Help , kyind Heaven ! '' and drops upon her knees On the green -- baize , -- beneath the -LRB- canvas -RRB- trees , -- See to her side avenging Valor fly : -- `` Ha ! Villain !