So tragic, need a hot meal in my baby’s belly / Reminisce no hard times in my pen, in my celly, / I ain’t tryna go back, cause backwards ain’t part of my PJ

Their Servants have their Meat reach'd them by their Masters, which they eat behind their Backs. They bring twice as much WIne as their Masters need, and drink the Remainder themselves. They seize on what is left after Dinner. And their Ladies each of them carry a Napkin to prog for dry'd Sweet-meats or Fruits.

Ptisan. A diluent drink which makes a great figure in the dietetic precepts of the ancients.

After Louise had gone, I inspected the icebox, and finding it much too puritanic, walked to town and bought the richest foods available.