O, How Wretched Is That Poor Man

Nimble Thought Can Jump Both Sea And Land.

Would The Cook Were O' My Mind!

I Must To The Barber's, Monsieur, For Methinks I Am Marvellous Hairy About The Face.

To Beguile The Time, Look Like The Time. Bear Welcome In Your Eye, Your Hand, Your Tongue.

Bid Me Discourse, I Will Enchant Thine Ear