Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow

The Brightness Of Her Cheek Would Shame Those Stars As Daylight Doth A Lamp; Her Eyes In Heaven Would Through The Airy Region Stream So Bright That Birds Would Sing, And Think It Were Not Night.

In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless Life.

There's Neither Honesty, Manhood, Nor Good Fellowship In Thee.

A Plague On Both Your Houses.

Many That Are Not Mad Have, Sure, More Lack Of Reason.