Suspicion Always Haunts The Guilty

I'll Say She Looks As Clear As Morning Roses Newly Washed With Dew.

Though I Be But Prince Of Wales, Yet I Am The King Of Courtesy.

There's Not The Smallest Orb Which Thou Behold'st But In His Motion Like An Angel Sings.

What Drink'st Thou Oft, Instead Of Homage Sweet, But Poisoned Flattery?

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.