Wealth Cannot Make A Life, But Love.

Tears Are The Noble Language Of The Eye.

T Is The Will That Makes The Action Good Or Ill.

Lord, 'tis Thy Plenty-dropping Hand That Soils My Land, And Giv'st Me For My Bushel Sowne Twice Ten For One. All This, And Better, Thou Dost Send Me, To This End, That I Should Render, For My Part, A Thankful Heart.

Oft Have I Heard Both Youths And Virgins Say, Birds Chuse Their Mates And Couple Too This Day: But By Their Flight I Never Can Devine When I Shall Couple With My Valentine.

Give Me A Kiss, And To That Kiss A Score: Then To That Twenty, Add A Hundred More.