War, War Is Still The Cry,-"war Even

Oh, Talk Not To Me Of A Name Great In Story; The Days Of Our Youth Are The Days Of Our Glory; And The Myrtle And Ivy Of Sweet Two-and-twenty Are Worth All Your Laurels, Though Ever So Plenty.

The Cardinal Is At His Wit's End - It Is True That He Had Not Far To Go.

Tyranny Is Far The Worst Of Treasons. Dost Thou Deem None Rebels Except Subjects? The Prince Who Neglects Or Violates His Trust Is More A Brigand Than The Robber-chief.

Roll On, Deep And Dark Blue Ocean, Roll. Ten Thousand Fleets Sweep Over Thee In Vain. Man Marks The Earth With Ruin, But His Control Stops With The Shore.

Your Thief Looks Exactly Like The Rest, Or Rather Better; 'tis Only At The Bar, And In The Dungeon, That Wise Men Know Your Felon By His Features.