(“Farewel,” he would have said, “to all my greatness,”
But he had never gentle Shakespeare read,
Nor seen the play of England’s bluff King Hal
Performed at the Princess’s). “So, farewell—
Clown was I born, and to clod-hopping life
I must return”—and then he ’gan to snivel,
And wipe his nose upon his jerkin’s cuff;
(For his were days when Manchester was not,
And dear were pocket handkerchiefs).
Then this poor boy wound slow his mournful way