Old bag of bones, can you not recognize
You lord and master, here before your eyes?
You scare-crow, what shall hold my sentence back,
That blots you out, you and your monkey-pack?
See you the scarlet jerkin, and not tremble?
Too blind the cockerel's feather to perceive?
When have you known my countenance dissemble?
Or must I wear my title on my sleeve?
My Lord, forgive me, if I weren't genteel!
I missed the signs; I see no cloven heel,
And where, pray, be your jet-black raven-pair?
Well, for this once, your lack of etiquette
Shall be excused; because, to be quite fair,
Much water's passed the bridges since we met.
Society's improved at every level,
And culture spreads now, even to the Devil.
Gone is the spook that filled the North with awe,
Out-moded are the horns, and tail and claw.
Touching the foot, with which I can't dispense,
My social circle might well take offense;
And so, like many fashionable lads,
I falsify my calves by using pads.
Out of my wits I am, with the surprise,
To see Squire Satan here before my eyes.
That name, good woman, you will please omit!
But why? That's nought to make a body quail.
True, it is almost turned to fairy-tale,
And yet mankind has failed to benefit -
The Evil One is banned: evils prevail.
Call me Lord Marquis, then our trade is good;
I am a cavalier, like all the rest,
So cast no doubt upon my gentle blood,
Behold, my coat-of-arms - this for a crest!
(He makes an indecent gesture.)