Chapter II

O strength of tongue how awful! O power of lungs how mighty!
Whence draw ye, honest gentlemen, your constant wind supply?
Whence comes your inspiration, belligerent or flighty?
Your common-place that grovels and your metaphors so high?
Pray, why not try, for novelty, a kind of solo speaking?
One man upon his legs--only one upon the floor?
For eloquence,'tis possible, does not consist in shrieking,
And really where's the argument in all this thundering roar?
Rap! rap! rap!
To quell the rising clamor;
Order! order! order!
Hammer! hammer! hammer!