But off will flutter, in a tangent,
And make a harum scarum range on’t!
Stand ye appall’d! quake! quiver! quail!
For lo I stride a comet’s tail!
If my deserts you fail t’ acknowledge,
I’ll drive it plump against your college!
But if your Esculapian band
Approach my highness, cap in hand,
And show vast tokens of humility,
I’ll treat your world with due civility.