See, like a routed host, with headlong pace,
Thy Members pour amid the mingling race!
All ask, what crowds the tumults could produce —
"Is Bedlam or the commons all broke loose?
Such noise and nonsense, betting, damning, sinking,
Such emphasis of oaths, and claret drinking!
Like school-boys freed, they run as chance directs,
Proud from a well-bred thing to risque their necks.
The warrior's scar not half so graceful seems,
As, at Newmarket, dislocated limbs.