Classic Poem

Of yore, in old England, it was not thought good
To carry two visages under one hood;
What should folk say to you? who have faces such plenty,
That from under one hood, you last night showed us twenty!
Stand forth, arch-deceiver, and tell us in truth,
Are you handsome or ugly, in age or in youth?
Man, woman, or child — a dog or a mouse?
Or are you, at once, each live thing in the house?
Each live thing, did I ask? each dead implement, too,
A work-shop in your person, — saw, chisel, and screw!
Above all, are you one individual? I know
You must be at least Alexandre and Co.
But I think you 're a troop, and assemblage, a mob,
And that I, as the Sheriff, should take up the job;
And instead of rehearsing your wonders in verse,
Must read you the Riot-Act, and bid you disperse.