Shoo! it baint for the raiment alone as I care.
'Tisn't that—the mere valley and worth of the coat—
'Tis the honour the present is meant to denote,
The respect I be held in, the height of esteem,
Which is far above all I could possible dream.
Why, what dost thee think, man? these things is no less
Than a passpoort for wearers, a privileged dress,
I puts on this quoat on my back—that was all—
And they lets me walk in to the grand County Ball.
There was Measter Disraeli, the friend o' the land,