In Nature There's No Blemish But The

Their Manners Are More Gentle, Kind, Than Of Our Human Generation You Shall Find.

Tis An Ill Cook That Cannot Lick His Own Fingers.

You May My Glories And My State Depose, But Not My Griefes; Still Am I King Of Those.

Virtue Is Chok'd With Foul Ambition

This Blessèd Plot, This Earth, This Realm, This England This Nurse, This Teeming Womb Of Royal Kings, . . . This Land Of Such Dear Souls, This Dear Dear Land.