Smooth Runs The Water Where The Brook

Shall I Never See A Bachelor Of Three Score Again?

The Deep Of Night Is Crept Upon Our Talk, And Nature Must Obey Necessity.

Virtue Preserv'd From Fell Destruction's Blast, Led On By Heaven, And Crown'd With Joy At Last.

There Is No More Mercy In Him Than There Is Milk In A Male Tiger.

But Thought's The Slave Of Life, And Life Time's Fool.