I’m a philosopher; confound them all!
Bills, beasts, and men, and—no! not womankind!
With one good hearty curse I vent my gall,
And then my Stoicism leaves nought behind
Which it can either pain or evil call,
And I can give my whole soul up to mind;
Though what is soul, or mind, their birth or growth,
Is more than I know—the deuce take them both!