Of Harmes Two The Lesse Is For

And Brought Of Mighty Ale A Large Quart.

And So It Is In Politics, Dear Brother, Each For Himself Alone, There Is No Other.

Woe To The Cook Whose Sauce Has No Sting.

He Who Accepts His Poverty Unhurt I'd Say Is Rich Although He Lacked A Shirt. But Truly Poor Are They Who Whine And Fret And Covet What They Cannot Hope To Get.

The Latter End Of Joy Is Woe.