Fair Is Foul, And Foul Is Fair,

To Hold, As 't Were, The Mirror Up To Nature.

An Earnest Conjuration From The King, As England Was His Faithful Tributary, As Love Between Them Like The Palm Might Flourish, As Peace Should Still Her Wheaten Garland Wear And Stand A Comma 'tween Their Amities, And Many Such-like As's Of Great Charge, That, On The View And Knowing Of These Contents, Without Debatement Further, More Or Less, He Should The Bearers Put To Sudden Death, Not Shriving Time Allow'd.

A Woman Is A Dish For The Gods, If The Devil Dress Her Not.

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!

For This Relief Much Thanks. 'tis Bitter Cold, And I Am Sick At Heart.