And strutting out foreright? a good stout busk
Pushing athwart shall force the intruder back.
Hath she red brows? a little soot will cure 'em.
Is she too black? the ceruse makes her fair:
Too pale of hue? the opal comes in aid.
Hath she a beauty out of sight? disclose it!
Strip nature bare without a blush.—Fine teeth?
Let her affect one everlasting grin,
Laugh without stint—but ah! if laugh she cannot,
And her lips won't obey, take a fine twig