_Saturn_. Just look at the shindy down yonder!

_Punch_. By Jove, what the doose are they doing?

_Saturn_. Oh, settling the Great Social Question!

_Father Time_. It looks as though mischief were brewing.

_Saturn_. Sort of parody of the old fight, which was splendid at least,
if tremendous,
'Twixt Jove and the Titans of old. That colossus, gold-armoured,
stupendous,
Perched high on the "Privilege" ramparts, and bastioned by big bags of
bullion,
Is "Capital"; he's the new Jove, and each Titan would treat as his
scullion,
But look at the huge Hundred-Handed One, armed with the scythe and the
sickle,
The hammer, the spade, and the pick!

_Father Time_. Things appear in no end of a pickle!

_Saturn_. Precisely! That's Labour-Briareus; backed up by "Bad Temper"
and "Blunder,"
And egged on by "Spout" (with a Fog-Horn); he's "going for" him of the
Thunder,
And Gold ramparts headlong, _à outrance_.

_Punch_. But look at the spectres behind them!