Now a beard is a thing that commands in a king,
Be his sceptres ne'er so fair:
Where the beard bears the sway, the people obey,
And are subject to a hair.
'Tis a princely sight, and a grave delight,
That adorns both young and old;
A well thatcht face is a comely grace,
And a shelter from the cold.
When the piercing north comes thundering forth,
Let barren face beware;
For a trick it will find, with a razor of wind,
To shave the face that's bare.
But there's many a nice and strange device,
That doth the beard disgrace;
But he that is in such a foolish sin,
Is a traitor to his face.
Now the beards there be of such a company,
And fashions such a throng,
That it is very hard to handle a beard,
Tho' it never be so long.
The Roman T, in its bravery,
Doth first itself disclose,
But so high it turns, that oft it burns
With the flames of a too red nose.
The stiletto-beard, oh! it makes me afeared,
It is so sharp beneath,
For he that doth place a dagger in 's face,
What wears he in his sheath?
But, methinks, I do itch to go thro' stich
The needle-beard to amend,
Which, without any wrong, I may call too long,
For man can see no end.
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