The Star and the Garter

XIII Is there a soul behind the mask? What master drives these slaves to task Thus willing? Physiology Wipes the red scalpel, scorns reply. My argument to please you swerves, Becomes a mere defence of nerves. Why they are thus, why so they act, We know not, but accept the fact. How this for my peccation serves? Marry, how? Tropically! Pact I bind with blood to show you use For this impertinence—and add A proverb fit to make you mad About the gander and the goose, Till you riposte with all your force A miserable pun on sauce. The battle when you will! This truce I take in vantage, hold my course. I see mechanic causes reach Back through eternity, inform 31