But day by day,
This blusterer meets me, and the hope's defaced.
I cannot say a word--make one remark,
That meets not flat and absolute contradiction--
I nothing know on earth--am misinformed
On every circumstance. The very terms,
Scope, rate, and merits of my own transactions
Are all to me unknown, or falsified,
Of which most potent proof can be adduced.
Then the important thump upon the board,
Snap with the thumb, and the disdainful 'whew!'
Sets me and all I say at less than naught.
What can a person do?--To knock him down
Suggests itself, but then it breeds a row
In a friend's house, or haply in your own,
Which is much worse; for glasses go like cinders;
The wine is spilled--the toddy. The chair-backs
Go crash! No, no, there's nothing but forbearance,
And mark'd contempt. If that won't bring him down,
There's nothing will. Ah! can the leopard change
His spots, or the grim Ethiop his hue?
Sooner they may and nature change her course,
Than can a blusterer to a modest man:
He still will stand a beacon of dislike.
A fool--I wish all blustering chaps were dead,
That's the true bathos to have done with them.
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