A Rebuke

Excuse me, Mister, if I enter a gentle protest About the manner in which you comport yourself When taking the air about the streets. For, looking at you, one would form the opinion That you were a man of much worth and nobility, That you were high in officialdom, A councillor of the king or a learned judge, Or one whose piety and wisdom Had marked him out to sit above his fellow.

One would think thus to see the swinging arms, The slow protuberant belly sheathed in a vest of scarlet, And the gold chain of Albert, the great Consort; To see the haughty head, the portly mien, The solemn gait, and the complacency with which you view the world.

Don't interrupt! I only wished to tell you That your claim to the excessive esteem of your neighbours Is wholly without foundation. Do please remember, Mister, that that scarlet belly Was acquired by the labours of little children Whom you employ to stick labels on bottles.