O, While You Live, Tell Truth, And

Don't Waste Your Love On Somebody, Who Doesn't Value It.

What We Determine We Often Break. Purpose Is But The Slave To Memory.

The Sweat Of Industry Would Dry And Die, But For The End It Works To.

Away, You Cut-purse Rascal! You Filthy Bung, Away! By This Wine, I'll Thrust My Knife In Your Mouldy Chaps, An You Play The Saucy Cuttle With Me. Away, You Bottle-ale Rascal! You Basket-hilt Stale Juggler, You!

An Habitation Giddy And Unsure Hath He That Buildeth On The Vulgar Heart.