Honour Travels In A Strait So Narrow

My Master Hath Been An Honorable Gentleman; Tricks He Hath Had In Him Which Gentlemen Have.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.

A Hand As Fruitful As The Land That Feeds Us; His Dew Falls Everywhere.

We Cannot All Be Masters.

O, The Blood More Stirs To Rouse A Lion Than To Start A Hare!