The Day Shall Not Be Up So

Thy Food Is Such As Hath Been Belch'd On By Infected Lungs.

Wolves And Bears, They Say, Casting Their Savagery Aside, Have Done Like Offices Of Pity.

Keep Thy Foot Out Of Brothels, Thy Hand Out Of Plackets, Thy Pen From Lender's Books, And Defy The Foul Fiend.

So Shalt Thou Feed On Death, That Feeds On Men.

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!