Knaves Starve Not In The Land Of

Who Often, But Without Success, Have Prayed For Apt Alliteration's Artful Aid.

Be England What She Will, With All Her Faults She Is My Country Still.

He Mouths A Sentence As Curs Mouth A Bone.

Genius Is Of No Country.

Enough Of Satire; In Less Harden'd Times Great Was Her Force, And Mighty Were Her Rhymes. I've Read Of Men, Beyond Man's Daring Brave, Who Yet Have Trembled At The Strokes She Gave; Whose Souls Have Felt More Terrible Alarms From Her One Line, Than From A World In Arms.