“Les doigts les moins savants me taillent de la sorte;
  Sous mille noms divers je parais tous les jours;
  Aux valets etourdis je suis d’un grand secours. 
  Le Louvre ne voit point ma figure a sa porte.

  “Une grossiere main vient la plupart du temps
  Me prendre de la main des plus honnetes gens. 
  Civil, officieux, je suis ne pour la ville.

  “Dans le plus rude hiver j’ai le dos toujours nu: 
  Et, quoique fort commode, a peine m’a-t-on vu,
  Qu’ausitot neglige, je deviens inutile.”

[Often, although light, I weary the person who carries me.  A word in my manner is worth a whole discourse.  I began under Louis the Great to be in vogue,—­slight, long, flat, narrow, of a very slight material.

The most unskilled fingers cut me in their way; under a thousand different forms I appear every day; I am a great aid to the astonished valets.  The Louvre does not see my face at its door.

A coarse hand most of the time receives me from the hand of the nicest people.  Civil, officious, I am born for the city.

In the coldest weather, my back is always bare; and, although quite convenient, scarcely have they seen me, when I am neglected and useless.—­Visiting card.]

A more interesting one and one that caused no little amusement is the following: 

  “Je suis niais et fin, honnete et malhonnete,
  Moins sincere a la cour qu’en un simple taudis. 
  Je fais d’un air plaisant trembler les plus hardis,
  Le fort me laisse aller, le sage m’arrete.

  “A personne sans moi l’on ne fait jamais fete: 
  J’embellis quelquefois, quelquefois, j’enlaidis. 
  Je dedaigne tantot, tantot j’applaudis;
  Pour m’avoir en partage, il faut n’etre pas bete.

  “Plus mon trone est petit, plus il a de beaute. 
  Je l’agrandis pourtant d’un et d’autre cote,
  Faisant voir bien souvent des defauts dont on jase.

  “Je quitte mon eclat quand je suis sans temoins,
  Et je me puis vanter enfin d’etre la chose
  Qui contente le plus et qui coute le moins.”

[I am both stupid and bright, honest and dishonest; less sincere at court than in a simple hovel; with a pleasant air, I make the boldest tremble, the strong let me pass, the wise stop me.

There is no joy to anyone without me; I embellish at times, at times I distort; I disdain and I applaud; to share me, one must not be stupid.

The smaller my throne, the greater my beauty; I enlarge it, however, on both sides, often showing defects which are made sport of.

I leave my brilliancy when I am without witness, and I can boast of being the thing which contents the most and costs the least.—­A smile.]