Though I Love My Country, I Do

Nothing Can Confound A Wise Man More Than Laughter From A Dunce.

Death, So Called, Is A Thing Which Makes Men Weep, And Yet A Third Of Life Is Passed In Sleep.

I Am Acquainted With No Immaterial Sensuality So Delightful As Good Acting.

And Hold Up To The Sun My Little Taper.

I Depart, Whither I Know Not; But The Hour's Gone By When Albion's Lessening Shores Could Grieve Or Glad Mine Eye.