My Friends Were Poor, But Honest, So's

Against Love's Fire Fear`s Frost Hath Dissolution

World, World, O World! But That Thy Strange Mutations Make Us Hate Thee/ Life Would Not Yield To Age.

May Never Glorious Sun Reflex His Beams Upon The Country Where You Make Abode! But Darkness And The Gloomy Shade Of Death Environ You Till Mischief And Despair Drive You To Break Your Necks Or Hang Yourselves.

The Best Quarrels, In The Heat, Are Cursed By Those That Feel Their Sharpness.

The Band That Seems To Tie Their Friendship Together Will Be The Very Strangler Of Their Amity.