With Curious Art The Brain, Too Finely

Knaves Starve Not In The Land Of Fools.

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

He Mouths A Sentence As Curs Mouth A Bone.

The Scots Are Poor, Cries Surly English Pride; True Is The Charge, Nor By Themselves Denied. Are They Not Then In Strictest Reason Clear, Who Wisely Come To Mend Their Fortunes Here?

Genius Is Independent Of Situation.