He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again.

You will never age for me, nor fade, nor die.

You cram these words into mine ears against The stomach of my sense.

To mingle friendship far is mingling bloods.

They that have voice of lions and act of hares,--are they not monsters?

This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands,--This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England.

By-and-by is easily said.