Alas, I Am A Woman Friendless, Hopeless!

A Noble Shalt Thou Have, And Present Pay; And Liquor Likewise Will I Give To Thee, And Friendship Shall Combine, And Brotherhood.

Reason Thus With Life: If I Do Lose Thee, I Do Lose A Thing That None But Fools Would Keep.

But Clay And Clay Differs In Dignity, Whose Dust Is Both Alike.

Let Fame, That All Hunt After In Their Lives, Live Regist'red Upon Our Brazen Tombs And Then Grace Us In The Disgrace Of Death; When, Spite Of Cormorant Devouring Time, Th' Endeavor Of This Present Breath May Buy That Honor Which Shall Bate His Scythe's Keen Edge And Make Us Heirs Of All Eternity.

The Fashion Of The World Is To Avoid Cost, And You Encounter It.