You Abilities Are Too Infant-like

Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends, Once More; Or Close The Wall Up With Our English Dead! In Peace There's Nothing So Becomes A Man As Modest Stillness And Humility: But When The Blast Of War Blows In Our Ears, Then Imitate The Action Of The Tiger.

O That My Tongue Were In The Thunder's Mouth! Then With Passion Would I Shake The World, And Rouse From Sleep That Fell Anatomy Which Cannot Hear A Lady's Feeble Voice, Which Scorns A Modern Invocation.

Love Adds A Precious Seeing To The Eye.

My Will Enkindled By Mine Eyes And Ears, Two Traded Pilots 'twixt The Dangerous Shores Of Will And Judgment.

This Sleep Is Sound Indeed; This Is A Sleep That From This Golden Rigol Hath Divorc'd So Many English Kings.