The true Amphitryon.

The true Amphitryon.

And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil
fail, according to the word of read more

And the barrel of meal wasted not, neither did the cruse of oil
fail, according to the word of the Lord, which he spake by
Elijah.

"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me read more

"An't it please your Honour," quoth the Peasant,
"This same Desset is not so pleasant:
Give me again my hollow Tree,
A Crust of Bread, and Liberty."

Keep a good table and attend to the ladies.
[Fr., Tenez bonne table et soignez les femmes.]

Keep a good table and attend to the ladies.
[Fr., Tenez bonne table et soignez les femmes.]

I will make an end of my dinner--there's pippins and seese to
come.

I will make an end of my dinner--there's pippins and seese to
come.

Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging read more

Thou say'st his meat was sauced with thy upbradings;
Unquiet meals make ill digestions;
Thereof the raging fire of fever bred.

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the read more

Blest be those feasts, with simple plenty crowned,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail
Or sigh with pity at some mournful tale.

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.

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as read more

For, as a surfeit of the sweetest things
The deepest loathing to the stomach brings,
Or as the heresies that men do leave
Are hated most of those they did deceive,
So thou, my surfeit and my heresy,
Of all be hated, but the most of me!