If I Be Waspish, Best Beware My

Never Anything Can Be Amiss, When Simpleness And Duty Tender It.

Mirth Cannot Move A Soul In Agony.

The Arms Are Fair, When The Intent Of Bearing Them Is Just.

Foul Fiend Of France And Hag Of All Despite, Encompassed With Thy Lustful Paramours, Becomes It Thee To Taunt His Valiant Age And Twit With Cowardice A Man Half Dead?

In A False Quarrel There Is No True Valor.