So ſhould an ideot vvhile at large he ſtrays, / Find the ſvveet lyre on vvhich an artiſt plays, / VVith raſh and aukvvard force the chords he ſhakes, / And grins vvith vvonder at the jar he makes; […]

I lost count of those who were convinced that they were Jesus, (including a handful of females). / They had a ward with 5 Jesi in it!

[H]eld safe and sound, I'd find the South Equatorial at last, at last, and safe from all the Sargassoes, the Scillas and Charibs, I'd swoop beautifully and lightly, drifting with the sweet currents of the South down the edge of the Brazilian Highlands to the Waters of Peace.

wrapped in funny paper