Dedicated to Geoffrey Chaucer
There was with them an Actress, tall and fair,
With rose-red lips and silken spun-gold hair
(Both paid for well – she thought not twice of that).
She was as sleek and graceful as a cat,
Not just in movement but in words as well:
A certain look from her – all protests quell.
She did not follow; rather, she would lead,
And woe betide you if you did not heed
Her fleeting fancies, tend her every whim:
Your future social prospects would look grim.
For gaudy dress she had especial flair –
To show off cash and beauty, she took care;
Publicity – that was her closest friend
(She came upon these travels to that end).
But honestly, her fame was not for naught –
A skillful master with the words she wrought
And deftly aimed at unsuspecting prey
With looks that led a steady heart astray.
To see her working was indeed a treat –
She’d flash her charm at all whom she would meet,
And get what she desired, without doubt.
She traveled the most profitable route;
On friends with no more use, she was not keen.
A most accomplished actress, Imogene.