Courage And Comfort, All Shall Yet Go

Arise, Fair Sun, And Kill The Envious Moon, Who Is Already Sick And Pale With Grief That Thou, Her Maid, Art Far More Fair Than She. . . .

Tired With All These For Restful Death I Cry, As To Behold Desert A Beggar Born, And Needy Nothing Trimmed In Jollity, And Purest Faith Unhappily Forsworn.

"fair, Kind, And True" Is All My Argument, "fair, Kind, And True" Varying To Other Words; And In This Change Is My Invention Spent, Three Themes In One, Which Wondrous Scope Affords.

So Weary With Disasters, Tugg'd With Fortune, That I Would Set My Life On Any Chance, To Mend, Or Be Rid On't.

When That The Poor Have Cried, Caesar Hath Wept: Ambition Should Be Made Of Sterner Stuff: Yet Brutus Says He Was Ambitious; And Brutus Is An Honourable Man.