'Tis fix'd as fate, and you must wear it,
Therefore with resignation bear it.
It is, I own, an ugly tumour,
But you should treat it with good humour,
And still be pleas'd you cannot trace
Any mis-givings on your face.
The change you surely would not try
For a lame leg or squinting eye:
Though somewhat out of line your figure,
You still enjoy Health's active vigour: