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But I say that truth is no bar to poetry, nor bad verse to truth either. And I say that this half-line of horribly bad verse, "kind hearts are more than coronets," is as true as true.

Which of you, O my companions, having drunk the wine of this world and half-despaired would not rather fetch up in your dereliction against a kind heart than a coronet? I don't say the two combined are to be despised. I only ask: Which of you having strictly to choose in the dark passage of this life between: (a) a coronet with a bad heart; (b) a kind heart without a coronet—wealth being equal—would not choose (b)? I would. So would you all. I cannot answer for women, but as Mr. Joseph Chamberlain said, "I know my own people," and the bearded ones (or those who would be bearded but for the detestable necessity of shaving) will with one moaning voice reply: "Kind Hearts!... No, thank you; I do not feel inclined for a Coronet this evening; bring me a Kind Heart."

Which of you, O my brethren, having suffered the things of this world and finding yourself sitting lonely on the bank of a stream in some forest place would not desire to have approach him, rather than a shallow, silly, boring, untenacious, stupid, cranky, ill-tempered, nagging, sour, pinched, haggard woman with a little coronet on her wig, a warm, a just, an experienced, a tender, an at-the-right-time-silent, a speaking-the-unexpected-word-of-salvation-at-the-Heaven-sent-moment, true, profoundly-loving, sufficiently admiring, comforting, regally beautiful woman with a kind heart? Which of you would not leave the first to approach the second? (Supposing, of course, equal incomes.)