I bleſs my Chain, I hand my Oar, / Nor think on all I left on Shoar.

Prom the audience, the sight was promising: an empty stage always had potential, but then there was the curious bathlike tub […]

A greater opening ofttimes hedges up / With but a little forkful of his thorns / The villager, what time the grape imbrowns, […]

I hung a no solicitors sign by my door. One of these days, I hope they'll get the picture and quit ringing the bell.