When they have shuffled much in that turmoil,
And give me their paws! There’s the respect
That makes calamity of my bored life;
For who would bear the patronage of Firth,
The oppressive candour of that proud man Beale,
The pangs of chaffing Dilke, Selborne’s delay,
The insolence of Chamberlain, and the spurns
My patient merit of the Premier takes,
When he himself might peace and quiet make
By mere inaction? Who would boredom bear,