They Are Hare-brain'd Slaves.

Promising Is The Very Air O' The Time; It Opens The Eyes Of Expectation.

How Much Better Is It To Weep At Joy Than To Joy At Weeping?

Listen To Many, Speak To A Few.

I Am Not Yet Of Percy's Mind, The Hotspur Of The North; He That Kills Me Some Six Or Seven Dozen Of Scots As A Breakfast, Washes His Hands, And Says To His Wife, 'fie Upon This Quiet Life! I Want Work.

So Get The Start Of The Majestic World And Bear The Palm Alone.