One Falls To The Ground In Trying

A Certain Jollity Of Mind, Pickled In The Scorn Of Fortune.

I'd Gladly Do Without A Valet. I'm Never So Well Treated As When I'm Without A Valet.

Oh How Unhappy Is The Prince Served By Such Men Who Are So Easily Corrupted.

Giving Words [is] An Act Of Lovers.

The Scent Of Wine, Oh How Much More Agreeable, Laughing, Praying, Celestial And Delicious It Is Than That Of Oil!