O Sleep! O Gentle Sleep! Nature's Soft

Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?

One Sees More Devils Than Vast Hell Can Hold

Though Age From Folly Could Not Give Me Freedom, It Does From Childishness.

Your Face Is A Book, Where Men May Read Strange Matters.

Fight, Gentlemen Of England! Fight, Bold Yeomen! Draw, Archers, Draw Your Arrows To The Head! Spur Your Proud Horses Hard, And Ride In Blood; Amaze The Welkin With Your Broken Staves!