Ay Me! For Aught That Ever I

Ay, Much Is The Force Of Heaven-bred Poesy.

Did He So Often Lodge In Open Field, In Winter's Cold And Summer's Parching Heat, To Conquer France, His True Inheritance?

He's Truly Valiant That Can Wisely Suffer The Worst That Man Can Breathe, And Make His Wrongs His Outsides, To Wear Them Like His Raiment, Carelessly, And Ne'er Prefer His Injuries To His Heart, To Bring It Into Danger.

We Will Have Rings And Things And Fine Array

Be Great In Act, As You Have Been In Thought.