One solid dish his week-day meal affords,
An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's.

One solid dish his week-day meal affords,
An added pudding solemniz'd the Lord's.

This dish of meat is too good for any but anglers, or very honest
men.

This dish of meat is too good for any but anglers, or very honest
men.

(For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you
even weeping, that they are read more

(For many walk, of whom I have told you often, and now tell you
even weeping, that they are the enemies of the cross of Christ:
Whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly, and whose
glory is in their shame, who mind earthly things.)

'Tis not the food, but the content,
That makes the table's merriment.

'Tis not the food, but the content,
That makes the table's merriment.

And in that day did the Lord God of hosts call to weeping, and to
mourning, and to baldness, read more

And in that day did the Lord God of hosts call to weeping, and to
mourning, and to baldness, and to girding with sackcloth:
And behold joy and gladness, slaying oxen, and killing sheep,
eating flesh, and drinking wine: let us eat and drink; for to
morrow we shall die.

When the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far
read more

When the Sultan Shah-Zaman
Goes to the city Ispahan,
Even before he gets so far
As the place where the clustered palm-trees are,
At the last of the thirty palace-gates
The pet of the harem, Rose-in-Bloom,
Orders a feast in his favorite room--
Glittering square of colored ice,
Sweetened with syrup, tinctured with spice,
Creams, and cordials, and sugared dates,
Syrian apples, Othmanee quinces,
Limes and citrons and apricots,
And wines that are known to Eastern princes.

'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
read more

'Tis not her coldness, father,
That chills my labouring breast;
It's that confounded cucumber
I've ate and can't digest.

Feast to-day makes fast to-morrow.
[Lat., Festo die si quid prodegeris,
Profesto egere liceat nisi peperceris.]

Feast to-day makes fast to-morrow.
[Lat., Festo die si quid prodegeris,
Profesto egere liceat nisi peperceris.]

The true Amphitryon.

The true Amphitryon.