Henry V. The southern wind Doth play the trumpet to his purposes, And by his hollow whistling in the leaves Foretells a tempest and a blustering day. Henry IV. Then with the losers let it sympathize, For nothing can seem foul to those that win.
The scent of these arm-pits is aroma finer than prayer,
In a paper published for an emergency finance committee meeting on May 12, TfL says it costs around £600 million a month to run its network, but that income has fallen by 90% since the lockdown began. As well as a decline in public transport revenue, London's congestion charge has been suspended to allow key workers to use the road network.
How many it [the treasure] had cost in the amassing, what blood and sorrow, what good ships scuttled on the deep, what brave men walking the plank blindfold, what shot of cannon, what shame and lies and cruelty, perhaps no man alive could tell.
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