Is This Government Of Britain's Isle, And

I Cannot Draw A Cart, Nor Eat Dried Oats; If It Be Man's Work, I'll Do't.

Rich Gifts Wax Poor When Givers Prove Unkind.

Retire Me To My Milan, Where Every Third Thought Shall Be My Grave.

There's A Divinity That Shapes Our Ends, Rough-hew Them How We Will.

Teeth Hadst Thou In Thy Head When Thou Wast Born, To Signify Thou Camest To Bite The World.