The Apparel Oft Proclaims The Man.

What Early Tongue So Sweet Saluteth Me?

I Cannot, Nor I Will Not Hold Me Still; My Tongue, Though Not My Heart, Shall Have His Will.

That In The Captains But A Choleric Word Which In The Soldier Is Flat Blasphemy.

Truth Will Come To Sight; Murder Cannot Be Hid Long.

Courage And Comfort, All Shall Yet Go Well