harington, sir john quotes

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Sir John, Sir, is a very unclubbable man.
Here lies the body of Sir John Guise.
Nobody laughs, and nobody cries;
Long-expected one and twenty
Ling'ring year at last is flown,
It was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the green leaves were afalling,
They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground,
Fair, rich, and young: how rare is her perfection,
Were it not mingled with one foul infection!
Treason doth never prosper: what's the reason?
For if it prosper, none dare call it treason.
Miss J. Hunter Dunn, Miss J. Hunter Dunn,
Furnish'd and burnish'd by Aldershot sun,
and the words never said,
And the ominous, ominous dancing ahead.
Oh! full Surrey twilight! importunate band!
Oh! strongly adorable tennis-girl's hand!
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