My Friends Were Poor, But Honest, So's

I Beseech You, Wrest Once The Law To Your Authority: To Do A Great Right, Do A Little Wrong.

Plutus Himself, That Knows The Tinct And Multiplying Med'cine, Hath Not In Nature's Mystery More Science Than I Have In This Ring.

God Grant Us Patience!

'tis The Soldier's Life To Have Their Balmy Slumbers Waked With Strife.

Here Comes A Man Of Comfort, Whose Advice Hath Often Stilled My Brawling Discontent.