But I’m too late, and therefore must make play.
’Twas a great banquet, such as Albion old
Was wont to boast—as if a glutton’s tray
Were something very glorious to behold.
But ’twas a public feast and public day—
Quite full—right dull—guests hot, and dishes cold—
Great plenty, much formality, small cheer—
And everybody out of their own sphere.