I Wish You All The Joy That

Security Is The Chief Enemy Of Mortals.

All His Successors Gone Before Him Have Done 't; And All His Ancestors That Come After Him May.

For To Define True Madness, What Is't But To Be Nothing Else But Mad?

Did He So Often Lodge In Open Field, In Winter's Cold And Summer's Parching Heat, To Conquer France, His True Inheritance?

Thy Head Is As Full Of Quarrels As An Egg Is Full Of Meat, And Yet Thy Head Hath Been Beaten As Addle As An Egg For Quarrelling.