Tis But A Part We See, And

Wine Lets No Lover Unrewarded Go.

Pride, Where Wit Fails, Steps In To Our Defence, And Fills Up All The Mighty Void Of Sense.

Oft, As In Airy Rings They Skim The Heath, The Clamtrous Lapwings Feel The Leaden Death; Oft, As The Mounting Larks Their Notes Prepare They Fall, And Leave Their Little Lives In Air.

Two Women Seldom Grow Intimate But At The Expense Of A Third Person; They Make Friendships As Kings Of Old Made Leagues, Who Sacrificed Some Poor Animal Betwixt Them, And Commenced Strict Allies; So The Ladies, After They Have Pulled Some Character To Pieces, Are From Henceforth Inviolable Friends.

Consult The Genius Of The Place, That Paints As You Plant, And As You Work.