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Rh By dint of seeing you at every turn Make friends, and fawn upon your frequent friends With mouth wide smiling, slit from ear to ear! I pass, still unsaluted, joyfully, And cry, What, ho ! another enemy ? Lunacy !

Well, what if it be my vice, My pleasure to displease to love men hate me ! Ah, friend of mine, believe me, I march better 'Neath the cross-fire of glances inimical ! How droll the stains one sees on fine-laced doublets, From gall of envy, or the poltroon's drivel ! The enervating friendship which enfolds you Is like an open laced Italian collar, Floating around your neck in woman's fashion ; One is at ease thus, but less proud the carriage ! The forehead, free from mainstay or coercion, Bends here, there, everywhere. But I, embracing Hatred, she lends, forbidding, stiffly fluted, The ruff's starched folds that hold the head so rigid ; Each enemy another fold a gopher, Who adds constraint, and adds a ray of glory ; For Hatred, like the ruff worn by the Spanish, Grips like a vice, but frames you like a halo!

Speak proud aloud, and bitter ! In my ear Whisper me simply this, She loves thee not!