The Chameleon Love Can Feed On The

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

Death Where Is Thy Sting? Love, Where Is Thy Glory?

I Cannot Tell What The Dickens His Name Is.

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.

In Love The Heavens Themselves Do Guide The State; Money Buys Lands, And Wives Are Sold By Fate.