I Trade Both With The Living And

Bold Knaves Thrive Without One Grain Of Sense, But Good Men Starve For Want Of Impudence.

The True Amphitryon Is The Amphitryon Where We Dine.

That Gloomy Outside, Like A Rusty Chest, Contains The Shoring Treasure Of A Soul Resolved And Brave.

Ever A Glutton, At Another's Cost, But In Whose Kitchen Dwells Perpetual Frost.

The Fool Of Nature Stood With Stupid Eyes And Gaping Mouth, That Testified Surprise.