Be England what she will, With all her faults she is my country still

Be England what she will, with all her faults she is my country still.

Be England what she will, With all her faults, she is my country still.

To copy beauty forfeits all pretense to fame; to copy faults is want of sense.

To copy beauty forfeits all pretense to fame; to copy faults is want of sense

Those who would make us feel, must feel themselves.