A Crier Of Green Sauce.

But Where Are The Snows Of Last Year? That Was The Greatest Concern Of Villon, The Parisian Poet.

Wait A Second While I Take A Swig Off This Bottle: It's My True And Only Helicon, My Caballine Fount, My Sole Enthusiasm. Here, Drinking, I Deliberate, I Reason, I Resolve And Conclude. After The Epilogue I Laugh, I Write, I Compose, I Drink. Ennius Drinking Would Write, Writing Would Drink.

Do You Know What Agelisas Said, When He Was Asked Why The Great City Of Lacedomonie Was Not Girded With Walls? Because, Pointing Out The Inhabitants And Citizens Of The City, So Expert In Military Discipline And So Strong And Well Armed: "here," He Said, "are The Walls Of The City," Meaning That There Is No Wall But Of Bones, And That Towns And Cities Can Have No More Secure Nor Stronger Wall Than The Virtue Of Their Citizens And Inhabitants.

Remove Idleness From The World And Soon The Arts Of Cupid Would Perish.

So That We May Not Be Like The Athenians, Who Never Consulted Except After The Event Done. [fr., Afin Que Ne Semblons Es Athenians, Qui Ne Consultoient Jamais Sinon Apres Le Cas Faict.]