Diseased Nature Oftentimes Breaks Forth In Strange

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.

What's More To Do, Which Would Be Planted Newly With The Time, As Calling Home Our Exiled Friends Abroad That Fled The Snares Of Watchful Tyranny, Producing Forth The Cruel Ministers Of This Dead Butcher And His Fiend-like Queen, Who, As 'tis Thought, By Self And Violent Hands Took Off Her Life; This, And What Needful Else That Calls Upon Us, By The Grace Of Grace We Will Perform In Measure, Time, And Place.

The Heavenly-harness'd Team Begins His Golden Progress In The East.

But Here's The Joy: My Friend And I Are One, Sweet Flattery!

Ring The Alarum-bell! Blow, Wind! Come, Wrack! At Least We'll Die With Harness On Our Back.