After a spectacularly over-enthusiastic encounter with the hair clippers a couple of months ago I haven't had to bother the comb for a while. People like Walks really have it easy. Ol' Cue Ball just has to wipe it over every once in a while and stop pigeons perching on it.
But since, alas! frail beauty must decay,
Curl'd or uncurl'd, since locks will turn to grey,
Since painted, or not painted, all shall fade,
And she who scorns a man, must die a maid;
What then remains but well our pow'r to use,
And keep good humour still whate'er we lose?
And trust me, dear! good humour can prevail,
When airs, and flights, and screams, and scolding fail.
Beauties in vain their pretty eyes may roll;
Charms strike the sight, but merit wins the soul."
