An Insult Directed At The Wicked Is

When Men Drink Wine They Are Rich, They Are Busy, They Push Lawsuits, They Are Happy, They Are Friends.

Ye Children Of Man! Whose Life Is A Span, Protracted With Sorrow From Day To Day, Naked And Featherless, Feeble And Querulous, Sickly, Calamitous Creatures Of Clay!

There Is No Honest Man! Not One, That Can Resist The Attraction Of Gold!

Men Of Sense Often Learn From Their Enemies. It Is From Their Foes, Not Their Friends, That Cities Learn The Lesson Of Building High Walls And Ships Of War.

Full Of Wiles, Full Of Guile, At All Times, In All Ways, Are The Children Of Men.