Robert Herrick Poems
Here we are all, by day; by night we're hurl'd
By dreams, each one into a several world.
Shark, when he goes to any publick feast,
Eates to ones thinking, of all there, the least.
What saves the master of the House thereby?
When if the servants search, they may descry
In his wide Codpeece, (dinner being done)
Two Napkins cram'd up, and a silver Spoone.