Wisdom Not Only Gets, But Once Got,

O Lust, Thou Infernal Fire, Whose Fuel Is Gluttony; Whose Flame Is Pride, Whose Sparkles Are Wanton Words; Whose Smoke Is Infamy; Whose Ashes Are Uncleanness; Whose End Is Hell.

The Suburbs Of Folly Is Vain Mirth, And Profuseness Of Laughter Is The City Of Fools.

They Who Cannot Be Induced To Fear For Love Will Never Be Enforced To Love For Fear. Love Opens The Heart, Fear Shuts It; That Encourages, This Compels; And Victory Meets Encouragement, But Flees Compulsion.

O Who Would Trust This World, Or Prize What's In It, That Gives And Takes, And Chops And Changes, Ev'ry Minute?

Lust Is A Sharp Spur To Vice, Which Always Putteth The Affections Into A False Gallop.