And ſhou’d Apollo now deſcend and write, / In Vertue’s Praiſe ’twou’d never paſs for Wit. / The Bookſeller perhaps wou’d ſay, / ’Twas well: / But ’Twou’d not hit the Times, ’Twou’d never Sell: / Unlesſs a Spice of Lewdneſs cou’d appear, / The ſprightly part wou’d ſtill be wanting there. / … / ’Tis Love and Honour muſt enrich our Verſe, / The Modern Terms, our Whoring to rehearſe. / The ſprightly part attends the God of Wine, / The Drunken Stile muſt blaze in every Line.

And how many times have our people spoke of dreams since the Whiteasses came?

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No tranx Minor tranquillisers are among the world's most commonly prescribed drugs.