Should be considered, reputetur! How?
If a poor animal feel honor smart,
Taught by blind instinct nature plants in him,
Shall man,—confessed creation's masterstroke,
Nay, intellectual glory, nay, a god,
Nay, of the nature of my Judges here,—
Shall man prove the insensible, the block,
The blot o' the earth he crawls on to disgrace?
(Come, that 's both solid and poetic!) Man
Derogate, live for the low tastes alone,