What's The Newest Grief? Each Minute Tunes

What's His Offense? Groping For Trout In A Peculiar River.

Let Me, If Not By Birth, Have Lands By Wit; All With Me's Meet That I Can Fashion Fit.

Now, My Masters, Happy Man Be His Dole, Say I; Every Man To His Business.

We May Outrun By Violent Swiftness And Lose By Over-running.

Unquiet Meals Make Ill Digestions.