We hold you well and think we can
Make you, in your despite, a man.
'Tis here our wont, though strange it seems,
To deal in solid facts, not dreams;
For lies are lies, and gold is gold,
And men are daily bought or sold.
Parade the purlieus if you wish
To study poor-law and fried fish;
There's much that waits to be improved,
And an improver's rarely loved.