The Instruments Of Darkness Tell Us Truths.

Or Are You Like The Painting Of A Sorrow, A Face Without A Heart?

All Things Are Ready, If Our Mind Be So.

Weep Not, Sweet Queen, For Trickling Tears Are Vain.

The Dear Father Would With His Daughter Speak, Commands Her Service; Are They Inform'd Of This?

What Soilders Whey-face? The English For So Please You. Take Thy Face Hence.