When Words Are Scarce They Are Seldom

Being Holiday, The Beggar's Shop Is Shut.

I Am One, My Liege, Whom The Vile Blows And Buffets Of The World Have So Incensed That I Am Reckless What I Do To Spite The World.

There Is An Old Poor Man,. . . . Oppress'd With Two Weak Evils, Age And Hunger.

Your Lordship, Though Not Clean Past Your Youth, Have Yet Some Smack Of Age In You, Some Relish Of The Saltiness Of Time.

Ships Are But Boards, Sailors But Men.