They were faire Ladies, till they fondly ſtriu’d / With th’Heliconian maides for mayſtery; / Of whom they ouer-comen, were depriu’d / Of their proud beautie, and th’one moyity / Transform’d to fiſh, for their bold ſurquedry, / But th’vpper halfe their hew retayned ſtill, / And their ſweet skill in wonted melody; / Which euer after they abuſd to ill, / T’allure weake traueillers, whom gotten they did kill.

I've done with my tirade. The world was gone; / The twice two thousand, for whom earth was made, / Were vanish'd to be what they call alone

Workin for a tits and ass magazine. I don't need a tent and a rag around my head to know shit when I smell it.

Gradually, the whole organization will outbranch the service from one place to another, in accordance with a prefixed schedule.