The Lamperts in a horse's mouth are known by every person; they are flaps that many do not understand, they are pieces of loose skin that grow in the wicks of their mouths, adjoining the axel teeth, and when they are eating hay or corn, it is apt to get betwixt them, which makes their mouth fore, and they are afraid of eating.

We shall not always plant while others reap / The golden increment of bursting fruit, / Not always countenance, abject and mute / That lesser men should hold their brothers cheap; […]

Rosolio is a simple liquor that Neapolitan families brewed and served with a cup of coffee.

And the half-reclining astronaut posture he is forced to adopt breeds sub-conscious fears that any minute now it may be chocks away and blast-off for the Moon.