This Thought Is As A

When Thou Cam'st First, Thou Strok'st Me And Made Much Of Me; Wouldst Give Me Water With Berries In't; And Teach Me How To Name The Bigger Light, And How The Less, That Burn By Day And Night; And Then I Loved Thee And Showed Thee All The Qualities O' Th' Isle, The Fresh Springs, Brine-pits, Barren Place And Fertile.

Madness In Great Ones Must Not Unwatched Go.

Thou Hast Most Traitorously Corrupted The Youth Of The Realm In Erecting A Grammar School.

Unless The Old Adage Must Be Verified, That Beggars Mounted, Run Their Horse To Death.

Our Purses Shall Be Proud, Our Garments Poor; For 'tis The Mind That Makes The Body Rich