Gold--the Picklock That Never Fails.

Tis The Only Discipline We Are Born For; All Studies Else Are But As Circular Lines, And Death The Center Where They All Must Meet.

Petitions, Not Sweetened With Gold, Are But Unsavory And Oft Refused; Or, If Received, Are Pocketed, Not Read.

Great Men, Till They Have Gained Their Ends, Are Giants In Their Promises, But, Those Obtained, Weak Pigmies In Their Performance. And It Is A Maxim Allowed Among Them, So They May Deceive, They May Swear Anything; For The Queen Of Love, As They Hold Constantly, Does Never Punish, But Smile, At Lovers' Perjuries.

Pleasures Of Worse Natures Are Gladly Entertained, And They That Shun Us Practice In Private Sports The Stews Would Blush At.

Malice Scorned, Puts Out Itself; But Argued, Give A Kind Of Credit To A False Accusation.