I Am Declined Into The Vale Of

Ambition, The Soldier's Virtue, Rather Makes Choice Of Loss, Than Gain Which Darkens Him.

All Things That We Ordained Festival Turn From Their Office To Black Funeral-- Our Instruments To Melancholy Bells, Our Wedding Cheer To A Sad Burial Feast; Our Solemn Hymns To Sullen Dirges Change; Our Bridal Flowers Serve For A Buried Corse; And All Things Change Them To The Contrary.

Great Men Should Drink With Harness On Their Throats.

Do Not Cast Away An Honest Man For A Villain's Accusation.

Ay, Is It Not A Language I Speak?