Song in a Pantomime

Fancy leads the fetter'd senses
Captives to her fond control;
Merit may have rich pretences,
But 'tis Fancy fires the soul.

Far beyond the bounds of meaning,
Fancy flies, a fairy-queen!
Fancy, wit and worth disdaming,
Gives the prize to Harlequin.

If the virgin's false, forgive her;
Fancy was your only foe:
Cupid claims the dart and quiver,
But 'tis Fancy twangs the bow.