On Her Vanity

What are these things thou lovest? Vanity.
To see men turn their heads when thou dost pass; 
To be the signboard and the looking-glass 
Where every idler there may glut his eye; 
To hear men speak thy name mysteriously, 
Wagging their heads. Is it for this, alas, 
That thou hast made a placard of a face 
On which the tears of love were hardly dry? 
What are these things thou lovest? The applause 
Of prostitutes at wit which is not thine; 
The sympathy of shop-boys who would weep 
Their shilling’s worth of woe in any cause, 
At any tragedy.—Their tears and mine, 
What difference? Oh truly tears are cheap!