Soul Of The Age! The Applause! Delight!

Doing, A Filthy Pleasure Is, And Short; And Done, We Straight Repent Us Of The Sport: Let Us Not Rush Blindly On Unto It, Like Lustful Beasts, That Only Know To Do It: For Lust Will Languish, And That Heat Decay, But Thus, Thus, Keeping Endless Holy-.

It Is Virtue That Gives Glory; That Will Endenizen A Man Everywhere.

Money Never Made Any Man Rich, But His Mind. He That Can Order Himself To The Law Of Nature, Is Not Only Without The Sense, But The Fear Of Poverty.

For Whose Sake, Henceforth, All His Vows Be Such, As What He Loves May Never Like Too Much.

To Men Pressed By Their Wants All Change Is Ever Welcome.