The Ingoldsby Legends, by Thomas Ingoldsby

A friend I met, some half hour since —

‘Good-morrow, Jack!’ quoth I;

The new-made Knight, like any Prince

Frowned, nodded, and passed by;

When up came Jem — ‘Sir John, your Slave!’

‘Ah, James! we dine at eight —

Fail not — (low bows the supple knave)

Don’t make my lady wait.’

The King can do no wrong? As I’m a sinner,

He’s spoilt an honest tradesman and my dinner.