Poetry's A Mere Drug, Sir.

Like Hungry Guests, A Sitting Audience Looks / Plays Are Like Suppers; Poets Are The Cooks / The Founder's You; The Table Is This Place / The Carvers We; The Prologue Is The Grace / Each Act A Course, Each Scene, A Different Dish.

Charming Women Can True Converts Make, We Love The Precepts For The Teacher's Sake.

The Shortest Pleasures Are The Sweetest.

Sir, You Shall Taste My Anno Domini.

Spite Of All Modesty, A Man Must Own A Pleasure In The Hearing Of His Praise.