Too Many Kings Can Ruin An Army

How Delicate Her Feet Who Shuns The Ground, Stepping A-tiptoe On The Heads Of Men.

It Is Equally Bad When One Speeds On The Guest Unwilling To Go, And When He Holds Back One Who Is Hastening. Rather One Should Befriend The Guest Who Is There, But Speed Him When He Wishes.

A Generous Friendship No Cold Medium Knows, Burns With One Love, With One Resentment Glows; One Should Our Interests And Our Passions Be, My Friend Must Hate The Man That Injures Me.

Oh, My Tattered Rags Are Caught On Your Coffee Table.

Heaven Hears And Pities Hapless Men Like Me, For Sacred Ev'n To Gods Is Misery.