Whilst he, from one side to the other turning,
Bare-headed, lower than his proud steed’s neck,
Bespake them thus—“I thank you, countrymen!”
And thus still doing, thus he pass’d along.
Alas, poor Richard! Where rides he the while?
As in a theatre, the eyes of men,
After a well-grac’d actor leaves the stage,
Are idly bent on him that enters next,
Thinking his prattle to be tedious;
Even so, or with much more contempt, men’s eyes