Commend Me To Sterling Honesty Though Clad

Each Age Has Deemed The New-born Year The Fittest Time For Festal Cheer.

Love, To Her Ear, Was But A Name, Combin'd With Vanity And Shame; Her Hopes, Her Fears, Her Joys, Were All Bounded Within The Cloister Wall.

Revenge, The Sweetest Morsel To The Mouth That Ever Was Cooked In Hell.

Great Talent Has Always A Little Madness Mixed Up With It.

Will Future Ages Believe That Such Stupid Bigotry Ever Existed!