It Is An Active Flame That Fliesfirst

When The Artless Doctor Sees No One Hope, But Of His Fees, And His Skill Runs On The Lees; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me! When His Potion And His Pill, Has, Or None, Or Little Skill, Meet For Nothing, But To Kill; Sweet Spirit, Comfort Me!

Necessity Makes Dastards Valiant Men.

Fight Thou With Shafts Of Silver, And O'ercome When No Force Else Can Get The Masterdom

Give, If Thou Can, An Alms; If Not, A Sweet And Gentle Word.

The Person Lives Twice Who Lives The First Life Well