For treason ’twere, and deadly sin,
To let the herd of vulgar in.
No matter how they enter: each
Is thrust against his neighbour’s breech.
One loses half his coat, and one
Feels that his hat or shoe is gone.
Another wild with fury, hoots,
“Stop, scoundrel, stop,—I’ve lost my boots.”
Another fall’n, for mercy cries,
And prays to heav’n they’ll let him rise,