War Is The Only Game In Which

Still Are The Thoughts To Memory Dear.

Blud's Thicker Than Water.

Look Not Thou On Beauty's Charming; Sit Thou Still When Kings Are Arming; Taste Not When The Wine-cup Glistens; Speak Not When The People Listens

Good Wine Needs Neither Bush Nor Preface To Make It Welcome. And They Drank The Red Wine Through The Helmet Barr'd.

What Skilful Limner E'er Would Choose To Paint The Rainbow's Varying Hues, Unless To Mortal It Were Given To Dip His Brush In Dyes Of Heaven?