The Dome Of Thought, The Palace Of

Divine In Hookas, Glorious In A Pipe When Tipp'd With Amber, Mellow, Rich, And Ripe;... Yet Thy True Lovers More Admire By Far Thy Naked Beauties - Give Me A Cigar!

For Through The South The Custom Still Commands The Gentleman To Kiss The Lady's Hands.

Let No Man Grumble When His Friends Fall Off, As They Will Do Like Leaves At The First Breeze; When Your Affairs Come Round, One Way Or T'other, Go To The Coffee House, And Take Another.

So Sweet The Blush Of Bashfulness, E'en Pity Scarce Can Wish It Less!

Bread Has Been Made (indifferent) From Potatoes; And Galvanism Has Set Some Corpses Grinning, But Has Not Answer'd Like The Apparatus Of The Humane Society's Beginning, By Which Men Are Unsuffocated Gratis: What Wondrous New Machines Have Late Been Spinning.