But that the dread of the percentages,
The uncastable beard from whose few roles
No career is made, puzzles the mind
And makes us rather bare the skin we have
Than grow the beard that may not cast us?
Thus the odds does make shavers of us all;
And thus the softest skin ere unweathered
Is splashed o'er with the light scent of oils,
And razored smooth with great skill of motion,
With this decision the hope springs new,
That attention comes from reps - Soft, it is!
The fair complexion! Eyes, counter youthfulness
Be all my years remember'd.