There Is Nothing But Roguery To Be

Divers Philosophers Hold That The Lips Is Parcel Of The Mouth.

An Angel; Or, If Not, An Earthly Paragon.

Good Old Grandsire ... We Shall Be Joyful Of Thy Company.

Beware The Leader Who Bangs The Drums Of War In Order To Whip The Citizenry Into A Patriotic Fervor.

The Wind-shak'd Surge, With High And Monstrous Main, Seems To Cast Water On The Burning Bear, And Quench The Guards Of The Ever-fixed Pole.