'tis A Strange Thing, Sam,

I Have Fed Purely Upon Ale; I Have Eat My Ale, Drank My Ale, And I Always Sleep Upon Ale.

Vivutur Ingenio, That Damn'd Motto There Seduced Me First To Me A Wicked Player.

Courage, The Highest Gift, That Scorns To Bend To Mean Devices For A Sordid End. Courage--an Independent Spark From Heaven's Bright Throne, By Which The Soul Stands Raised, Triumphant High, Alone. Great In Itself, Not Praises Of The Crowd, Above All Vice, It Stoops Not To Be Proud. Courage, The Mighty Attribute Of Powers Above, By Which Those Great In War, Are Great In Love. The Spring Of All Brave Acts Is Seated Here, As Falsehoods Draw Their Sordid Birth From Fear.

Our Sex Still Strikes An Awe Upon The Brave, And Only Cowards Dare Affront A Woman.

Observe This, That Tho A Woman Swear, Forswear, Lie, Dissemble, Back-bite, Be Proud, Vain, Malicious, Anything, If She Secures The Main Chance, She's Still Virtuous; That's A Maxim.