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.

'Tis best to weigh the enemy more mighty than he seems.

To business that we love we rise betime, and go to't with delight.

If I shall be condemned Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else But what your jealousies awake, I tell you 'Tis rigor and not law.

Sometimes when we are labeled, when we are branded our brand becomes our calling.

A hit, a very palpable hit.

All thy vexations Were but my trials of thy love, and thou Hast strangely stood the test; here, afore heaven, I ratify this my rich gift.