To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth

Now I Will Believe That There Are Unicorns.

What Wouldst Thou Do, Old Man? Think'st Thou That Duty Shall Have Dread To Speak When Power To Flattery Bows?

In Time The Savage Bull Doth Bear The Yoke.

With These Shreds They Vented Their Complainings, Which Being Answered And A Petition Granted Them, A Strange One, To Break The Heart Of Generosity, And Make Bold Power Look Pale, They Threw Their Caps As They Would Hang Them On The Horns O' Th' Moon, Shouting Their Emulation.

I Am Ill At These Numbers.