The tribute of a fool to the worth of the nearest ass.
They say that hens do cackle loudest when There's nothing vital in the eggs they've laid; And there are hens, professing to have made A study of mankind, who say that men Whose business 'tis to drive the tongue or pen Make the most clamorous fanfaronade O'er their most worthless work; and I'm afraid They're not entirely different from the hen. Lo! the drum-major in his coat of gold, His blazing breeches and high-towering cap -- Imperiously pompous, grandly bold, Grim, resolute, an awe-inspiring chap! Who'd think this gorgeous creature's only virtue Is that in battle he will never hurt you?