O, My Offence Is Rank, It Smells

A Horse, A Horse, My Kingdom For A Horse!

Your Gentleness Shall Force More Than Your Force Move Us To Gentleness.

To Show Our Simple Skill, That Is The True Beginning Of Our End.

What Is The City But The People?

O Polished Perturbation! Golden Care! That Keep'st The Ports Of Slumber Open Wide To Many A Watchful Night.