Here Will Be An Old Abusing Of

The Quality Of Mercy Is Not Strained

The Pleasant'st Angling Is To See The Fish Cut With Her Golden Oars The Silver Stream And Greedily Devour The Treacherous Bait.

We Cannot Fight For Love, As Men May Do; We Shou'd Be Woo'd, And Were Not Made To Woo

All Fancy-sick She Is And Pale Of Cheer, With Sighs Of Love, That Costs The Fresh Blood Dear.

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.