To pave the way[2] where, once a day,
His lordship walks, you know.
“And then if those who meet him
Go by, nor doff their caps,[3]
Aha, his cane will fall like rain,
To make them mend their lapse.”
“Small spite! and yet,” said Barton:
“A wrinkle shows the will.
A grazing ass that kicks but grass
Has tricks that yet may kill.