‘Fight on,’ quoth Fitton!
‘Smite,’ quoth Smith!
Pugnacious fellows!
Many a gibe has found vent in a motto. A London tobacconist who had set up his carriage, requiring a motto for his arms, was furnished with “Quid rides?” Why do you laugh? and a great hop-planter found the following chalked beneath the arms upon his chariot:
“Who’d ’a thought it,
Hops had bought it?”
Dr. Cox Macro, the learned Cambridge divine, consulting a friend on the choice of a motto, was pithily answered with “Cocks may crow!”
There are some ‘lippes,’ as Camden says, which like ‘this kind of lettuce.’ For the behoof of such the following list is set down, without regard to any classification:
Cavendish. Cavendo tutus. Safe by caution.
Charteris, Earl. (Crest, an arm brandishing a sword; over it) This is our Charter!
Fane, Earl of Westmoreland. Ne vile Fano. Dishonour not the temple. The first and second words allude to his descent from the family of Neville.
Graves of Gloucestershire. Graves disce mores. Learn serious manners.