Come Give Us A Taste

Fie, Fie, How Frantically I Square My Talk!

Well Could He Ride, And Often Men Would Say, "that Horse His Mettle From His Rider Takes: Proud Of Subjection, Noble By The Sway, What Rounds, What Bounds, What Course, What Stop He Makes!" And Controversy Hence A Question Takes, Whether The Horse By Him Became His Deed, Or He His Manage By The Well-doing Steed.

Our Remedies Oft In Ourselves Do Lie, Which We Ascribe To Heaven.

O Excellent! I Love Long Life Better Than Figs.

O Thou Invisible Spirit Of Wine, If Thou Hast No Name To Be Known By, Let Us Call Thee Devil.