BOOK ONE. 27 The one yet green, the other more mature, Who found for nature's wane in art a cure. These dames, amidst their joking and caressing The man they longed to wed, Would sometimes set themselves to dressing His party-coloured head. Each aiming to assimilate Her lover to her own estate, The older piecemeal stole The black hair from his poll, While eke, with fingers light, The young one stole the white. Between them both, as if by scald, His head was changed from grey to bald. 'For these,' he said, *your gentle pranks, I owe you, ladies, many thanks ; By being thus well shaved, I less have lost than saved. Of Hymen, yet, no news at hand, I do assure ye. By what I 've lost, I understand It is in your way, Not mine, that I must pass on. Thanks, ladies, for the lesson.*
