If I May Trust The Flattering Truth

Care For Us! True, Indeed! They Ne'er Cared For Us Yet: Suffer Us To Famish, And Their Storehouses Crammed With Grain; Make Edicts For Usury, To Support Usurers; Repeal Daily Any Wholesome Act Established Against The Rich, And Provide More Piercing Statutes Daily To Chain Up And Restrain The Poor. If The Wars Eat Us Not Up, They Will; And There's All The Love They Bear Us.

Blind Is His Love, And Best Befits The Dark.

But Say, My Lord, It Were Not Regist'red, Methinks The Truth Should Live From Age To Age, As 'twere Retailed To All Posterity, Even To The General All-ending Day.

Grief Makes One Hour Ten.

After Life's Fitful Fever He Sleeps Well. Treason Has Done His Worst. Nor Steel Nor Poison, Malice Domestic, Foreign Levy, Nothing Can Touch Him Further.