I Am A Great Eater Of Beef,

And Ruin`d Love When It Is Built Anew, Grows Fairer Than At First, More Strong, Far Greater

I Cannot Speak Your England.

And Oftentimes Excusing Of A Fault Doth Make The Fault The Worse By The Excuse.

Gloucester: Yet So Much Is My Poverty Of Spirit, So Mighty And So Many My Defects, As I Had Rather Hide Me From My Greatness, Being A Bark To Brook No Mighty Sea, Than In My Greatness Covet To Be Hid, And In The Vapour Of My Glory Smother'd. But God Be Thanked. . . .

Farewell, My Sister, Fare Thee Well. The Elements Be Kind To Thee, And Make Thy Spirits All Of Comfort: Fare Thee Well.