True Apothecary Thy Drugs Art Quick

Help, Master, Help! Here's A Fish Hangs In The Net, Like A Poor Man's Right In The Law; 'twill Hardly Come Out.

To Unpathed Waters, Undreamed Shores.

In The Modesty Of Fearful Duty, I Read As Much As From The Rattling Tongue Of Saucy And Audacious Eloquence.

Tis Mad Idolatry To Make The Service Greater Than The God.

Each Present Joy Or Sorrow Seems The Chief.