His heart runs away with his head

Not to be sneezed at.

Oh, London is a fine town, A very famous city, Where all the streets are paved with gold, And all the maidens pretty.

Praise the bridge that carried you over.

My father was an eminent button maker — but I had a soul above buttons — I panted for a liberal profession.

Lord help you! Tell ’em Queen Anne's dead.

On their own merits modest men are dumb.