This England Never Did, Nor Never Shall,

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing, And Is Not Careful What They Mean Thereby, Knowing That With The Shadow Of His Wings He Can At Pleasure Stint Their Melody: Even So Mayest Thou The Giddy Men Of Rome.

How Far That Little Candle Throws Its Beams! So Shines A Good Deed In A Naughty World.

If The Skin Were Parchment And The Blows You Gave Were Ink, Your Own Handwriting Would Tell You What I Think.

I Had Rather Eleven Died Nobly For Their Country Than One Voluptuously Surfeit Out Of Action.

A Man Cannot Make Him Laugh; But That's No Marvel; He Drinks No Wine.... If I Had A Thousand Sons, The First Human Principle I Would Teach Them Should Be, To Forswear Thin Potations And To Addict Themselves To Sack.