Have I Caught Thee, My Heavenly Jewel?

And Oft, My Jealousy Shapes Faults That Are Not.

He That Hath The Steerage Of My Course, Direct My Sail.

Art Made Tongue-tied By Authority.

Fight, Gentlemen Of England! Fight, Bold Yeomen! Draw, Archers, Draw Your Arrows To The Head! Spur Your Proud Horses Hard, And Ride In Blood; Amaze The Welkin With Your Broken Staves!

As I Love The Name Of Honour More Than I Fear Death.