As Sodomes Apples, neere th’Asphalticke lake, Of specious shew, yet touch’t, to ashes turning, So are sinnes poysons sweete, yet bane to take;

In a very few hours I arrived in a city that always makes me think of a whited sepulchre.

Before the fitting of silencers to these locomotives was completed by the end of 1961, they were very noisy in operation, but the effect of the silencer has been remarkable.

So fares it with this faultful lord of Rome, Who this accomplishment so hotly chas'd; For now against himself he sounds this doom, That through the length of times he stands difgrac'd