We Have Some Salt Of Our Youth

By Jove, I Am Not Covetous For Gold, Nor Care I Who Doth Feed Upon My Cost; It Yearns Me Not If Me My Garments Wear; Such Outward Things Dwell Not In My Desires: But If It Be A Sin To Covet Honor, I Am The Most Offending Soul Alive.

This Royal Throne Of Kings, This Sceptered Isle, This Earth Of Majesty, This Seat Of Mars, This Other Eden, Demi-paradise, This Fortress Built By Nature For Herself Against Infection And The Hand Of War, This Happy Breed Of Men, This Little World, This Precious Stone Set In The Silver Sea, Which Serves It In The Office Of A Wall Or As A Moat Defensive To A House, Against The Envy Of Less Happier Lands,--this Blessed Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England.

You Are Thought Here To The Most Senseless And Fit Man For The Job.

And Some That Smile Have In Their Hearts, I Fear, Millions Of Mischiefs.

For The Success, Although Particular, Shall Give A Scantling Of Good Or Bad Unto The General; And In Such Indexes, Although Small Pricks To Their Subsequent Volumes, There Is Seen The Baby Figure Of The Giant Mass Of Things To Come At Large.