And so he plays his part. Then the “gov’nor,” drest
In shooting jacket and check pantaloons,
With spectacles on nose, jeered at, defied,
Elbowed and buffeted on every side,
On a trunk sinking, lifts his voice no more,
Wipes his moist brow, and, as he fills his pipe,
Whistles despairingly. Last scene of all
That ends poor paterfamilias’s history,
Is the home-coming, and more chivying
(Sans doute) en route—ennuied, wrong everything.