In Nature's Infinite Book Of Secrecy A

Here Was A Caesar! When Comes Such Another?

I Will Be Free, Even To The Uttermost, As I Please, In Words.

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

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!

To Lapse In Fulness Is Sorer Than To Lie For Need, And Falsehood Is Worse In Kings Than Beggars.