The beggarly last doit.
I pity them greatly, but I must be mum, for how could we do without sugar and rum?
War's a game, which, were their subjects wise, Kings would not play at.
Trials make the promise sweet, Trials give new life to prayer; Trials bring me to His feet, Lay me low, and keep me there.
Remorse begets reform.
To follow foolish precedents, and wink With both our eyes, is easier than to think.