Toyish Airs Please Trivial Ears.

He That Begins To Live, Begins To Die.

Neutrality Is Dangerous, Whereby Thou Becomest A Necessary Prey To The Conqueror.

Of All Vices Take Heed Of Drunkenness; Other Vices Are But Fruits Of Disordered Affections--this Disorders, Nay, Banishes Reason; Other Vices But Impair The Soul--this Demolishes Her Two Chief Faculties, The Understanding And The Will; Other Vices Make Their Own Way--this Makes Way For All Vices; He That Is A Drunkard Is Qualified For All Vice.

Yet, Sluggard, Wake, And Gull Thy Soul No More With Earth's False Pleasures, And The World's Delight, Whose Fruit Is Fair And Pleasing To The Sight, But Sour In Taste, False As The Putrid Core: Thy Flaring Glass Is Gems At Her Half Light; She Makes Thee Seeming Rich, But Truly Poor: She Boasts A Kernel, And Bestows A Shell; Performs An Inch Of Her Fair-promis'd Ell: Her Words Protest A Heav'n; Her Works Produce A Hell.

In The Height Of Thy Prosperity Expect Adversity, But Fear It Not. If It Come Not, Thou Art The More Sweetly Possessed Of The Happiness Thou Hast, And The More Strongly Confirmed. If It Come, Thou Art The More Gently Dispossessed Of The Happiness Thou Hadst, And The More Firmly Prepared.