Fair Is The Marigold, For Pottage Meet.

And When A Lady's In The Case, You Know, All Other Things Give Place.

Is There No Hope? The Sick Man Said, The Silent Doctor Shook His Head, And Took His Leave With Signs Of Sorrow, Despairing Of His Fee To-morrow.

If The Heart Of A Man Is Depressed With Cares, The Mist Is Dispelled When A Woman Appears.

In Beauty Faults Conspicuous Grow; The Smallest Speck Is Seen On Snow.

Fools May Our Scorn, Not Envy, Raise. For Envy Is A Kind Of Praise.