We hold our greyhound in our hand, Our falcon on our glove; But where shall we find leash, or band, For dame that loves to rove?

Apollo does not always bend his bow.

Fierce eagles breed not the tender dove.

The present century was growing blind To the great Marlborough's skill in giving knocks, Until his late life by Archdeacon Coxe.

It is a wretched thing to rest upon the fame of others, lest, the supporting pillar being removed, the superstructure should collapse in ruin.

Let him play the second fiddle who can't play the first.