My Honour Was Not Yielded,

Leave The Fishing-rod, Great General, To Us Sovereigns Of Pharos And Canopus. Your Game Is Cities And Kings And Continents.

Be It Known That We, The Greatest, Are Misthought.

All Strange And Terrible Events Are Welcome, But Comforts We Despise.

In Praising Antony I Have Dispraised Caesar.

My Honour Was Not Yielded, But Conquered Merely.