Three gladnesses that soon give way to griefs,
  A wooer’s, a tale-bearer’s, and a thief’s.

  Three signs of ill-bred folk in every nation—­
  A visit lengthened to a visitation,
  Staring, and overmuch interrogation.

  Three arts that constitute a true physician: 
  To cure your malady with expedition. 
  To let no after-consequence remain,
  And make his diagnosis without pain.

  Three keys that most unlock our secret thinking
  Are love and trustfulness and overdrinking.

  Three nurses of hot blood to man’s undoing—­
  Excess of pride, of drinking, and of wooing.

  Three the receivers are of stolen goods: 
  A cloak, the cloak of night, the cloak of woods.

  Three unions, each of peace a proved miscarriage,
  Confederate feats, joint ploughland, bonds of marriage.

  Three lawful hand-breadths for mankind about the body be,
  From shoes to hose, from ear to hair, from tunic unto knee.

  Three youthful sisters for all eyes to see,
  Beauty, desire, and generosity.

  Three excellences of our dress are these—­
  Elegance, durability, and ease.

  Three idiots of a bad guest-house are these—­
  A hobbling beldam with a hoicking wheeze,
  A brainless tartar of a serving-girl,
  For serving-boy a swinish lubber-churl.

  Three slender ones whereon the whole earth swings—­
  The thin milk stream that in the keeler sings;
  The thin green blade that from the cornfield springs;
  That thin grey thread the housewife’s shuttle flings.

  The three worst welcomes that will turn a guest-house
  For weary wayfarers into a Pest-house—­
  Within its roof a workman’s hammer beat;
  A bath of scalding water for your feet;
  With no assuaging draught, salt food to eat.

  Three finenesses that foulness keep from sight—­
  Fine manners in the most misfeatured wight;
  Fine shapes of art by servile fingers moulded;
  Fine wisdom from a cripple’s brain unfolded.

  Three fewnesses that better are than plenty: 
  A fewness of fine words—­but one in twenty;
  A fewness of milch cows, when grass is shrinking;
  Fewness of friends when beer is best for drinking.

  Three worst of snares upon a Chieftain’s way: 
  Sloth, treachery, and evil counsel they!

  Three ruins of a tribe to west or east: 
  A lying Chief, false Brehon, lustful Priest.

  The rudest three of all the sons of earth: 
  A youngster of an old man making mirth;
  A strong man at a sick man poking fun;
  A wise man gibing at a foolish one.

  Three signs that show a fop:  the comb-track on his hair;
  The track of his nice teeth upon his nibbled fare;
  His cane-track on the dust, oft as he takes the air.

  Three sparks that light the fire of love are these—­
  Glamour of face, and grace, and speech of ease.