We Will All Laugh At Gilded Butterflies.

Blessings Of Your Heart, You Brew Good Ale.

'tis Not Enough To Help The Feeble Up, But To Support Them After.

Princes Have But Their Titles For Their Glories, An Outward Honor For An Inward Toil; And, For Unfelt Imaginations, They Often Feel A World Of Restless Cares.

What Cannot Be Saved When Fate Takes, Patience Her Injury A Mockery Makes

Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One.