Alas! All Music Jars When The Soul's

Death Eats Up All Things, Both The Young Lamb And Old Sheep; And I Have Heard Our Parson Say, Death Values A Prince No More Than A Clown.

But My Thoughts Ran A Wool-gathering; And I Did Like The Countryman, Who Looked For His Ass While He Was Mounted On His Back.

I Follow A More Easy, And, In My Opinion, A Wiser Course, Namely--to Inveigh Against The Levity Of The Female Sex, Their Fickleness, Their Double-dealing, Their Rotten Promises, Their Broken Faith, And, Finally, Their Want Of Judgment In Bestowing Their Affections.

All Persons Are Not Discreet Enough To Know How To Take Things By The Right Handle.

Too Much Sanity May Be Madness!