I Have Sounded The Very Base-string Of

The Eagle Suffers Little Birds To Sing, And Is Not Careful What They Mean Thereby, Knowing That With The Shadow Of His Wings He Can At Pleasure Stint Their Melody: Even So Mayest Thou The Giddy Men Of Rome.

They Love Least That Let Men Know Their Loves.

I Profess Not Talking: Only This, Let Each Man Do His Best.

My Falcon Now Is Sharp And Passing Empty, And Till She Stoop She Must Not Be Full-gorged, For Then She Never Looks Upon Her Lure.

My Business Was Great, And In Such A Case As Mine A Man May Strain Courtesy.