The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow

You Are Not Wood, You Are Not Stones, But Men; And Being Men, Hearing The Will Of Caesar, It Will Inflame You, It Will Make You Mad.

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

When Once Our Grace We Have Forgot, Nothing Goes Right.

As Merry As The Day Is Long.

The Undiscovered Country From Whose Bourn No Traveler Returns.