13.
‘Don’t jest with thy master, thou recreant knave!
Am I, Sir, or am I, Sir, no king?
By the Prophet I swear’—
‘Cry you mercy—forbear!’
Quoth Talley, ‘I thought you were joking.’
14.
‘Am I such a lover of jibes or of jests,
Do I ever smile?’ Boney cried, ‘Sir;’
‘No, that I may say
But to blast or betray;’
(But this, Talley uttered aside, Sir.)
15.
He calls on Great Mahomet, swears by his beard,
The Lama he begs to be civil;
Now tells all his complaints
To the Calendar Saints,
And now sends them all to the Devil.
16.
Thus prepared, he clasp’d firm the dread steel in his hand
And wielded his cleaver on high, Sir;—
‘Oh thou Bull, thou Grand Bête!
Oh thou barb of my Fate!
This day thou most surely shalt die, Sir!’
17.
Tho’ artful and cunning some madmen appear,
The simplest expedient will turn ’em;
Talley saw what he meant;
On the schemes he was bent,
And fully resolv’d to adjourn ’em.