Die Of A Rose In Aromatic Pain.

Wine Works The Heart Up, Wakes The Wit, There Is No Cure 'gainst Age But It

There Goes A Saying, And 'twas Shrewdly Said, ''old Fish At Table, But Young Flesh In Bed.

The Hungry Judges Soon The Sentence Sign, And Wretches Hang That Jurymen May Dine.

Love Finds An Altar For Forbidden Fires.

He Knows To Live Who Keeps The Middle State, And Neither Leans On This Side Nor On That.