Who Doubting Tyranny, And Fainting Under Fortune's

The True Way To Gain Much, Is Never To Desire To Gain Too Much. He Is Not Rich That Possesses Much, But He That Covets No More; And He Is Not Poor That Enjoys Little, But He That Wants Too Much.

Envy, Like The Worm, Never Runs But To The Fairest Fruit; Like A Cunning Bloodhound, It Singles Out The Fattest Deer In The Flock.

Oh, Love Will Make A Dog Howl In Rhyme.

Daisies Smell-less, Yet Most Quaint, And Sweet Thyme True, Primrose, First Born Child Of Ver, Merry Spring-time's Harbinger.

Honor's A Thing Too Subtle For Wisdom; If Honor Lie In Eating, He's Right Honorable.