Truth Is The Golden Girdle Of The

Remorse, The Fatal Egg By Pleasure Laid, In Every Bosom Where Her Nest Is Made, Hatched By The Beams Of Truth, Denies Him Rest, And Proves A Raging Scorpion In His Breast.

Variety's The Very Spice Of Life, That Gives It All Its Flavor.

Though Peace Be Made, Yet It's Interest That Keep Peace.

A Man Renowned For Repartee Will Seldom Scruple To Make Free With Friendship's Finest Feeling, Will Thrust A Dagger At Your Breast, And Say He Wounded You In Jest, By Way Of Balm For Healing.

It Is A General Rule Of Judgment, That A Mischief Should Rather Be Admitted Than An Inconvenience.