Once, Farce was playing cards with Tragedy,
And both held hands that each believed would win.
While both observed the needed pageantry,
They both were very anxious to begin.
First, Farce laid down a witty dowager
And three fine fops who sought to win her hand,
But countered Tragedy with late monsieur,
So noble that no other could she stand.
Then Tragedy led with its strongest card:
A monarch killed by grieving friend, distraught.
But Farce foiled with absurdity that jarred:
A dozen ways for killer to be caught.
Farce kept its hand with false identity;
And dying breath gave one to Tragedy.
“The School for Lies,” David Ives
“A Masked Ball,” Giuseppe Verdi