"If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or your arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that you were our countrymen."

Sunday, 25 September 2011

Sunday Reflection



"Pox on you for a fop, your stomach's too queasy.
Cannot I belch and fart, you coxcomb to ease me?
What if I let fly in your face and shall please ye?
Fogh, fogh, how sour he smells.
Now he's at, now he's at it again.
Out ye beast, I never met so nasty a man.
I'm not able to bear it.
What the devil d'ye mean?
No less than a Caesar decreed with great reason,
No restraint should be laid on the bum or the weason,
For belching and farting were always in season."

Yes! Henry Purcell.

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