Saturn. That's scarcely god-lingo, my boy; but 'tis much as you say, and no wonder.
Free imports have ruined my realm—I refer to Bad-Temper and Blunder,
Two brutish and boobyish Titans—they've wholly corrupted our morals,
And taught us "Boycotting," and "Strikes," and "Lock-outs," and all sorts of mad quarrels.
I hope you don't know them down there, in your queer little speck of a planet,
These humbugging latter-day Titans?
Punch. That cannot concern you—now can it?
Saturn. Just look at the shindy down yonder!
Punch. By Jove, what the doose are they doing?
Saturn. Oh, settling the Great Social Question!