If Music Be The Food Of Love,

Scorn, At First, Makes After-love The More.

Hang Those That Talk Of Fear.

I See You Stand Like Greyhounds In The Slips, Straining Upon The Start. The Game's Afoot; Follow Your Spirit: And Upon This Charge, Cry — God For Harry! England And Saint George!

Friendly Counsel Cuts Off Many Foes.

We Waste Our Lights In Vain, Like Lamps By Day.