Were Guilt Is, Rage And Courage Doth

Get Money, Still Get Money, Boy, No Matter By What Means.

Drink To Me Only With Thine Eyes, And I Will Pledge With Mine; Or Leave A Kiss But In The Cup And I'll Not Look For Wine.

Wine It Is The Milk Of Venus, And The Poet's Horse Accounted: Ply It And You All Are Mounted.

Custom Is The Most Certain Mistress Of Language, As The Public Stamp Makes The Current Money.

Tis No Sin Love's Fruits To Steal; But The Sweet Thefts To Reveal; To Be Taken, To Be Seen, These Have Crimes Accounted Been.