Of looks...."

"Well, of what, then?
You want to deceive us,
To palm off your rubbish,
You swindling impostor!
D'you think that the peasants
Know one from another? 370
A shabby one--he wants
An expert to sell him,
But trust me to part with
The fat and the fierce."

"You don't want officials?"

"To Hell with officials!"

However they took one
Because he was cheap:
A minister, striking
In view of his stomach 380
As round as a barrel,
And seventeen medals.

The merchant is serving
With greatest politeness,
Displaying and praising,
With patience unyielding,--
A thief of the first-class
He is, come from Moscow.