Such Men As Fortune Raises From A

Vice Deceives Us When Dressed In The Garb Of Virtue.

The Smell Of Money Is Good, Come Whence It May. [alluding To Vespasian's Tax On Ordure.]

Men Who Ape The Saint And Play The Sinner.

Every Great House Is Full Of Haughty Servants.

The Brief Span Of Our Poor Unhappy Life To Its Final Hour Is Hastening On; And While We Drink And Call For Gay Wreaths, Perfumes, And Young Girls, Old Age Creeps Upon Us, Unperceived.