Archers Ever Have Two Strings To Bow;

They're Only Truly Great Who Are Truly Good.

Give Me A Spirit That On This Life's Rough Sea Loves T'have His Sails Filled With A Lusty Wind, Even Till His Sail-yards Tremble, His Masts Crack, And His Ship Run On Her Side So Low That She Drinks Water, And Her Keel Plows Air.

News As Wholesome As The Morning Air.

There Is A Nick In Fortune's Restless Wheel For Each Man's Good.

I Pray, What Flowers Are These? The Pansy This, O, That's For Lover's Thoughts.