Let's lay aside plotting and thinking,As I am a graduate of the University of Virginia, I suppose I may be called a Cavalier. "Wah-hoo-wah," said Tom cavalierly.
And medling with matters of State,
Since we have the freedome of drinking,
'Tis a folly to scribble or prate.
The great ones have nothing to think on,
But how to make fools of the small;
We Cavaliers suffer and drink on,
And care not a louse for 'um all.
"A peculiar anthologic maze, an amusing literary chaos, a farrago of quotations, a mere olla podrida of quaintness, a pot pourri of pleasant delites, a florilegium of elegant extracts, a tangled fardel of old-world flowers of thought, a faggot of odd fancies, quips, facetiae, loosely tied" (Holbrook Jackson, Anatomy of Bibliomania) by a "laudator temporis acti," a "praiser of time past" (Horace, Ars Poetica 173).
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Thursday, October 28, 2010
We Care Not a Louse
Alexander Brome (1620-1666), Song XL (The Murmurer), lines 1-8: