.mw-parser-output .wst-block-center{display:block;margin:0 auto;padding:0;position:relative;max-width:100%;height:auto;text-align:initial}.mw-parser-output .wst-block-center-title{display:inline-block;width:100%;text-align:center}
My hounds are bred out of the Spartan kind.
So flew'd, ſo ſanded, and their heads are hung
With ears that ſweep away the morning dew;
Crook-knee'd, and dew-lap'd, like Theſſalian bulls;
Slow in purſuit, but match'd in mouth like bells.
Each under each. A cry more tuneable
Was never halloo'd to, nor cheer'd with horn.
Shakespeare's Midſumrmer Night's Dream.