Gold Were As Good As Twenty Orators.

But Men May Construe Things After Their Fashion, Clean From The Purpose Of The Things Themselves.

O, Spirit Of Love, How Quick And Fresh Art Thou!

The Apprehension Of The Good Gives But The Greater Feeling To The Worse.

Farewell The Plumed Troop, And The Big Wars That Make Ambition Virtue! O, Farewell! Farewell The Neighing Steed And The Shrill Trump, The Spirit-stirring Drum, Th' Ear-piercing Fife, The Royal Banner, And All Quality, Pride, Pomp, And Circumstance Of Glorious War!

Friends, Romans, Countrymen, Lend Me Your Ears; I Come To Bury Caesar, Not To Praise Him.