On Commissary Goldie’s Brains
Lord, to account who dares thee call,
Or e’er dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?
Man please thy maker and be merry set not for this world a cherry.
On Commissary Goldie’s Brains
Lord, to account who dares thee call,
Or e’er dispute thy pleasure?
Else why, within so thick a wall,
Enclose so poor a treasure?
Prosperity knits a man to the world. He feels that he is finding his place in it, while really it…
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Before the time of Shakespeare men had grown used to the Ptolemaic astronomy, and since the time of Shakespeare men…