God Bless Thee; And Put Meekness In

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

Hanging And Wiving Goes By Destiny.

Rebellion In This Land Shall Lose His Sway, Meeting The Check Of Such Another Day.

Assume A Virtue, If You Have It Not. That Monster, Custom, Who All Sense Doth Eat; Of Habits Devil, Is Angel Yet In This.

There's Many A Man Hath More Hair Than Wit.