Where women suffer and pine,
But I bet that a painted face I'll show
Of a love-sick model of mine,
That will beat them all for hopeless woe
And cadaverous design!
"And our surgeon said, 'No doubt you will,
For the epicene women you paint
Are bilious ghosts in want of a pill,
With undoubted strumous taint;
So hollow-eyed and cheek'd, no skill