O good old man, how well in thee appears The constant service of the antique world, When service sweat for duty, not for meed! Thou art not for the fashion of these times, Where none will sweat but for promotion, And having that do choke their service up Even with the having. . . .

I am not bound to please thee with my answer.

Honour travels in a strait so narrow Where one but goes abreast.

The bitter clamor of two eager tongues.

A breath thou art, Servile to all the skyey influences.

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

I am never merry when I hear sweet music.