Nice manners
The art of fine manners is treasure that is not for all to grasp,
Gentleness might melt hearts of iron and adamant temper,
Tender parlance sways minds and much is to yield,
At wit's end, when one's fate bodes ill,
Some are masters of solemn words of might,
Which they speak and so the secrets of the world command,
Words of power, yet terrible and lapidary as the bolt in the night,
Nice manners may conceal your real plan, instead, toying with an enemy of no usual comparison, that could either be creeping shadow in the pits of perilous mountains, a greedy serpent sat on gold or sheer madness of a brave king of old.