There Was Never Yet Fair

Conscience Is A Thousand Swords.

Merrily, Merrily Shall I Live Now, Under The Blossom That Hangs On The Bough.

The Soul Of This Man Is His Clothes.

One Pain Is Lessened By Another's Anguish.

A Lean Cheek; Which You Have Not: A Blue Eye, And Sunken; Which You Have Not: An Unquestionable Spirit; Which You Have Not: A Beard Neglected; Which You Have Not: — But I Pardon You For That; For, Simply, Your Having1 In Beard Is A Younger Brother's Revenue: — Then Your Hose Should Be Ungarter'd, Your Bonnet Unhanded, Your Sleeve Unbuttoned, Your Shoe Untied, And Every Thing About You Demonstrating A Careless Desolation.