And foul seems all that fair I fancied—
The lily's sheen a leprous growth,
The very buttercups are rancid!"
Archie. Jove! The Johnny who wrote that must have been feelin' chippy!
Bertie. He gets cheaper than that in the next poem. This is his idea of "Abasement."
[He reads.
"With matted head a-dabble in the dust,
And eyes tear-sealèd in a saline crust,
I lie all loathly in my rags and rust—
Yet learn that strange delight may lurk in self-disgust."