Put on fierce airs, 'tis sure to do,
Stare all the people through and through;
A foreign Count at least, not come short
A man of 'great account' of some sort.
Well, after all, man! never mind
The scurvy jeers of all mankind;
Keep up your spirits—quite the dandy,
If only through your Master's brandy!
Fortune, at times, makes her approach, man,
Both to the Footman and the Coachman;