Page:Ferishtah's fancies - Browning (1884).djvu/64

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FERISHTAH'S FANCIES.
Man's sense avails to only see, in pain,A hateful chance no man but would avertOr, failing, needs must pity. Thanks to GodAnd love to man,—from man take these away,And what is man worth? Therefore, Mihrab Shah,Tax me my bread and salt twice over, claimLaila my daughter for thy sport,—go on!Slay my son's self, maintain thy poetryBeats mine,—thou meritest a dozen deaths!But—ulcer in the stomach,—ah, poor soul,Try a fig-plaster: may it ease thy pangs!"

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