jsdill
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 maw, court of leaves | |
"Death eats up all things, both the young lamb and old sheep;
and I have heard our parson say, death values a prince no more
than a clown; all's fish that comes to his net; he throws at
all, and sweeps stakes; he's no mower that takes a nap at
noon-day, but drives on, fair weather or foul, and cuts
down the green grass as well as the ripe corn: he's neither
squeamish nor queesy-stomach'd, for he swallows without
chewing, and crams down all things into his ungracious maw;
and tho' you can see no belly he has, he has a confounded
dropsy, and thirsts after men's lives, which he guggles down
like mother's milk."
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