And If I Drink Oblivion

It's Past Parsons To Console Us: No, Nor No Doctor Fetch For Me: I Can Die Without My Bolus; Two Of A Trade, Lass, Never Agree! Parson And Doctor!--don't They Love Rarely Fighting The Devil In Other Men's Fields! Stand Up Yourself And Match Him Fairly: Then See How The Rascal Yields!

That Rarest Gift To Beauty, Common Sense!

Not Till The Fire Is Dying In The Grate, Look We For Any Kinship With The Stars.

I've Studied Men From My Topsy-turvy Close, And I Reckon, Rather True. Some Are Fine Fellows: Some, Right Scurvy; Most, A Dash Between The Two.

O Have A Care Of Natures That Are Mute!