LXXI.

All have their fooleries--not alike are thine, Fair Cadiz, rising o'er the dark blue sea![89] Soon as the Matin bell proclaimeth nine, Thy Saint-adorers count the Rosary: Much is the VIRGIN teased to shrive them free (Well do I ween the only virgin there) From crimes as numerous as her beadsmen be; Then to the crowded circus forth they fare: Young, old, high, low, at once the same diversion share.