The Farce Is Finished. I Go To

From The Gut Comes The Strut, And Where Hunger Reigns, Strength Abstains.

So Much Is A Man Worth As He Esteems Himself.

Bottle, Whose Mysterious Deep Do's Ten Thousand Secrets Keep, With Attentive Ear I Wait; Ease My Mind, And Speak My Fate.

Such Is The Nature And Make-up Of The French That They Are Only Good At The Start. Then They Are Worse Than Devils, But, Given Time, They're Less Than Women.

If The Skies Fall, One May Hope To Catch Larks.