Honour is a homicide and a bloodspiller, that gangs about making frays in the street; but Credit is a decent honest man, that sits at hame and makes the pat play.

My hope, my heaven, my trust must be, My gentle guide, in following thee.

Although too much of a soldier among sovereigns, no one could claim with better right to be a sovereign among soldiers.

Commend me to sterling honesty though clad in rags.

Sleep in peace, and wake in joy.

He that would soothe sorrow must not argue on the vanity of the most deceitful hopes.

O Caledonia! stern and wild, Meet nurse for a poetic child! Land of brown heath and shaggy wood; Land of the mountain and the flood!