I Will Walk Where My Own Nature

Proud People Breed Sad Sorrows For Themselves. But If You Be Afraid Of Your Touchiness, You Must Ask Pardon, Mind, When She Comes In.

No Coward Soul Is Mine, No Trembler In The World's Storm-troubled Sphere.

No Coward Soul Is Mine.

The Tyrant Grinds Down His Slaves And They Don't Turn Against Him, They Crush Those Beneath Them.

He Had The Hypocrisy To Represent A Mourner: And Previous To Following With Hareton, He Lifted The Unfortunate Child On To The Table And Muttered, With Peculiar Gusto, 'now, My Bonny Lad, You Are Mine! And We'll See If One Tree Won't Grow As Crooked As Another, With The Same Wind To Twist It!