But, erudite in English law,
I fashioned bricks without the straw.
Around my chamber-floor I sped.
Harangued the book-case on each head;
DEMOSTHENES and CICERO
On hearing me had cried a go.
Then I must own that I was nettled--
Out of Court the case was settled.
All my points were left unmade,
And the fee is left unpaid.
* * * * *
POLITE LEARNING.
[Professor LOMBROSO writes in the _Revue des Revues_ that all
women are liars. Mr. VICTOR HORSLEY writes in the _Times_ that
one of Miss COBBE's statements is a lie.]
Shameful, shocking, rude Professor!
CRICHTON BROWNE--your predecessor
In attacks, would-be suppressor
Of the higher
Education--once compared them
To the Pantaloon, and scared them,
But he was polite, and spared them
Words like "liar."
Lie, indeed! There is a middle
Course--say "fib" or "tarradiddle,"
"Not quite true," "A sort of riddle
Facts to smother."
We, who love the fair romancer--
Be she talker, singer, dancer,
What you will, she's sweet--we answer,
"You're another!"
As for you, rough Mr. HORSLEY,
Arguing so very coarsely,
May I say yours is a worse lie,--
Rhyming badly?
You, so skilled in vivisection,
Could cut up Miss COBBE's objection,
With your tongue in some subjection,
Not thus madly.
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