The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing.

You Have Lost No Reputation At All, Unless You Repute Yourself Such A Loser.

For In That Sleep Of Death What Dreams May Come.

Now Would I Give A Thousand Furlongs Of Sea For An Acre Of Barren Ground.

Look Like The Innocent Flower, But Be The Serpent Under It.

Crowns In My Purse I Have, And Goods At Home, And So Am Come Abroad To See The World.