The wicked look utterly like men! Such close mimics we have never seen! More blessed than the good are the base, For they have no scruples. The base are like the gods. They also do whatever they like. The base are proud when they find men Meaner than themselves. Fear is the base man's only code; Sometimes, greed a little. The base are like drum, for they sound off to others Every secret they hear. The base won’t even shake their wet hands Unless their jaws are shaken with clenched fists. A word will move the noble; While the base, like sugarcane, must be crushed. The base excel in finding faults of others When they see them well clothed and fed. What use are the base in a crisis, Save to rush and sell themselves?