She knows her man, and when you rant and swear, Can draw you to her with a single hair.

I pray thee let me and my fellow have A hair of the dog that bit us last night.

Beauty, like ice, our footing does betray; Who can tread sure on the smooth, slippery way: Pleased with the surface, we glide swiftly on, And see the dangers that we cannot shun.

And love's the noblest frailty of the mind.

When rattling bones together fly, / From the four corners of the sky.

And all to leave, what with this toil he won, / To that unfeathered, two-legged thing, a son.