You Taught Me Language, And My Profit

That England, That Was Wont To Conquer Others, Hath Made A Shameful Conquest Of Itself.

Did My Heart Love Till Now? Forswear It, Sight! For I Ne'er Saw True Beauty Till This Night.

A Very Little Little Let Us Do And All Is Done.

Lives Like A Drunken Sailor On A Mast, Ready With Every Nod To Tumble Down Into The Fatal Bowels Of The Deep.

France Is A Dog-hole, And It No More Merits The Tread Of A Man's Foot.