And Knowing Money Is A Root Of

Frankly, It's Good Enough To Lock Up In A Drawer.

Then Worms Shall Try That Long Preserved Virginity, And Your Quaint Honor Turn To Dust, And Into Ashes All My Lust. The Grave's A Fine And Private Place But None, I Think, Do There Embrace.

She Is Laughing Up Her Sleeve At You.

Each Day My Reason Tells Me So; But Reason Doesn't Rule In Love, You Know.

Gold Gives To The Ugliest Thing A Certain Charming Air, For That Without It Were Else A Miserable Affair.