Lest Men Suspect Your Tale Untrue, Keep

From Kings To Cobblers 'tis The Same; Bad Servants Wound Their Masters' Fame.

She Who Has Never Lov'd, Has Never Liv'd.

Fill It Up. I Take As Large Draughts Of Liquor As I Did Of Love. I Hate A Flincher In Either.

The Careful Insect 'midst His Works I View, Now From The Flowers Exhaust The Fragrant Dew, With Golden Treasures Load His Little Thighs, And Steer His Distant Journey Through The Skies.

Let Firm, Well Hammer'd Soles Protect Thy Feet Through Freezing Snows, And Rains, And Soaking Sleet; Should The Big Last Extend The Shoe Too Wide, Each Stone Will Wrench The Unwary Step Aside; The Sudden Turn May Stretch The Swelling Vein, The Cracking Joint Unhinge, Or Ankle Sprain; And When Too Short The Modish Shoes Are Worn, You'll Judge The Seasons By Your Shooting Corn.