There Is Little Choice In A Barrel

I Will Not Be Sworn But Love May Transform Me To An Oyster; But I'll Take My Oath On It, Till He Have Made An Oyster Of Me He Shall Never Make Me Such A Fool.

And, Looking On It With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, "it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See," Quoth He, "how The World Wags."

The Ides Of March Are Come. Soothsayer: Ay, Caesar; But Not Gone.

This England Never Did, Nor Never Shall, Lie At The Proud Foot Of A Conqueror.

A Heavier Task Could Not Have Been Impos'd, Than I To Speak My Griefs Unspeakable.