Addressing a meeting of women in England, Dr. Josiah Oldfield, the noted physician, said that every time a woman loses her temper, or even looks cross, she impresses her ugliness on her face; every time she smiles she adds to her beauty.
Sweet, think how much the better it would be If you thro' life should thus preserve your beauty. It really doesn't matter much to me; But don't you think you owe the world a duty, And don't you think that thro' some kindly thought -- Of me, for instance -- beauty were well bought? Those wrinkles on your face, dear, Those bags beneath your eyes Are but the evil trace, dear, Of temper, spite and lies. Why can't you be a saint, dear, Like dear old Joan of Arc; Be pleasant -- which you ain't, dear, And do not be a nark. Consider, sweetheart, if you smiled always How much, thro' weeks, your face might be improving; In place of which, in these unhappy days, You go to beauty shops for the removing Of wrinkles, blemishes and ugly warts. Why, when a smile will serve, seek these resorts? Why can't you raise a grin, sweet, And be a little beauty? For ugliness is sin, sweet, And loveliness a duty. So, for my sake, why can't you make An effort to he glad. Just think of me and joyful be; For I am not too bad.
|Copyright © Perry Middlemiss 2002|