He made his tour quite round about,

On his return he took a race

Directly, cross the market-place:

When thus a talkative buffoon,

“Esop, what means this light at noon?”

He answer’d briefly, as he ran,

“Fellow, I’m looking for a man.”

Now if this jackanapes had weigh’d

The true intent of what was said,

He’d found that Esop had no sense