He may be bad, but never low."

Then those who had no word of Greek
Felt lifted up to hear him speak.
"Ah, learning, learning," others said.
'Tis fine to have a clever head."
And here and there a nervous cheer
Was heard, and someone growled, "Hear, hear."

"Kind friends," said Sym . . . But, at a glance,
The 'cute Sir Stodge had seen his chance.
"Quid nuncl" he cried. "O noble Glugs,
This fellow takes you all for mugs.
I ask him, where's his quid pro quo?
I ask again, quo warranto?

"Shall this man filch our wits from us
With his furor poeticus?
Nay!" cried Sir Stodge. "You must agree,
If you will hark a while to me
And at the Glugs' collective head
He flung strange language, ages dead.

With mystic phrases from the Law,
With many an old and rusty saw,
With well-worn mottoes, which he took
Haphazard from the copy-book,
For half an hour the learned Knight
Belaboured them with all his might.