I Will Despair, And Be

Tongues I'll Hang On Every Tree That Shall Civil Sayings Show. . . .

The Sweets We Wish For, Turn To Loathed Sours, Even In The Moment That We Call Them Ours.

Honesty Is Not The Best Policy - Merely The Safest

Hot And Hasty, Like A Scotch Jig.

O Sir, You Are Old; Nature In You Stands On The Very Verge Of Her Confine; You Should Be Ruled And Led By Some Discretion, That Discerns Your Fate Better Than You Yourself.