Forced to pander to the unruly crowds for their votes, Shakespeare's Coriolanus cannot contain his contempt for the howling mobs.
You common cry of curs! whose breath I hate
As reek o' the rotten fens, whose loves I prize
As the dead carcases of unburied men
That do corrupt my air,--I banish you.
Don't you just wonder what his poll figures were. Where's Zogby when you need him?