Beware! the fame of Senators thou'rt crushing!
Too flippantly thou givest each retort.
What are they doing while for their shame I'm blushing?
"Lushing!"
And drinking?—pray continue thy report—
Port
Curse on these seeds of death, and those who sow them
But there's another thing I'd fain be told—
What of the masses, the canaille below them?
"B-low them!"