A nd you, O destroyed one, what will you do? Even when you dress in red, and wear objects of gold, and color your eyes to make them look bigger, you make yourself beautiful for nothing. Your lovers hate you, and want to kill you.
And when thou art spoiled, what wilt thou do? Though thou clothest thyself with crimson, though thou deckest thee with ornaments of gold, though thou rentest thy face with painting, in vain shalt thou make thyself fair; thy lovers will despise thee, they will seek thy life.
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