Scrape not your own, like vulgar mortals,

Standing outside your Master's portals;

But of your cleanliness to vapour,

Use the hearth-rug, and save the scraper!

Ask not for leave each rambling bout,

The less your fear to be found 'out;'

Though p'raps you've had a bout of kissing,

And no one knows you've e'er been missing:

All that your fellow-servants know,

You left but "scarce a min't ago."