Chapter C: S. CALVERLEY, Fly Leaves

_Miss Prue._ Must I tell a lie, then?
_Tattle._ Yes, if you'd be well-bred. All well-bred
persons lie.

CONGREVE, _Love for Love_.

Some attacks on the lungs, that of woe would be full,
Are repelled by a filter of loose Cotton Wool;
But a barrier of brass, or a _chevaux-de-frise_,
Won't exclude some descriptions of Dust and Disease.

LORD NEAVES, _Songs and Verses_.

When an acquaintance came up to him and said,
"Why, Jerrold, I hear you said my nose was like
the ace of clubs!" Jerrold returned, "No, I
didn't; but now I look at it, I see it is very like."

MRS. COWDEN CLARKE.

_WUS, EVER WUS._

Wus, ever wus! By freak of Puck's
My most exciting hopes are dashed;
I never wore my spotless ducks
But madly--wildly!--they were splashed.

I never roved by Cynthia's beam,
To gaze upon the starry sky,
But some old stiff-backed beetle came,
And charged into my pensive eye.

And oh! I never did the swell
In Regent Street, amongst the beaus,
But smuts the most prodigious fell,
And always settled on my nose!

H. CHOLMONDELEY PENNELL, _Puck on Pegasus_.

L'hymen vient après l'amour, comme la fumée
après la flamme.

CHAMFORT, _Maximes_.

It may be so--perhaps thou hast
A warm and loving heart;
I will not blame thee for thy face,
Poor devil as thou art.
That thing thou fondly deem'st a nose,
Unsightly though it be--
In spite of all the cold world's scorn,
It may be much to thee.

Those eyes--among thine elder friends
Perhaps they pass for blue;
No matter--if a man can see,
What more have eyes to do?
Thy mouth--that fissure in thy face,
By something like a chin,
May be a very useful place
To put thy victuals in.

OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES.

Nothing shows one who his friends are, like
prosperity and ripe fruit. I had a good friend
in the country whom I almost never visited
except in cherry time. By your fruits you shall know
them.