Proteus: Run, boy, run, run, and seek him out. Launce: Soho, soho! Proteus: What seest thou? Launce: Him we go to find […]

Programs range from hour-long combinations of services (massage, exfoliation, wraps, facials and bliss-inducing oildowns with exotic names like Ayurvedic) to day-long agendas. Upon arrival at the spa, I'm led to an all-white room where ethereal New Age music is playing — an Enya song; luckily, no Kenny G. I alert the aesthclician, a serene Israeli woman named Anal, that I'm none too partial to oils, gels, goops and the like.

This probability is strengthened by the enthusiastic praises Wilkes always bestowed on the native charms of the lower class of Vectensian females; and in his hours of levity with the companions of his gallantries, he always distinguished it by the name of Cyprus.

But more usefull to our intellect, is the long time famous'd Mountaine Albors, neere this place; infamous in the Pyreë or Temple of Idolatrous Fyre, which has never gone out for fifty Ages.