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42

Had I a headache? sighed the maids assembled;
 * Had I a cold? welled forth the silent tear;

Did I look pale? then half a parish trembled;
 * And when I coughed all thought the end was near!

I had no care—no jealous doubts hung o'er me—
 * For I was loved beyond all other men.

Fled gilded dukes and belted earls before me—
 * Ah me, I was a pale young curate then!