Truly The Souls Of Men Are Full

For He Was Likely, Had He Been Put On, To Have Proved Most Royally.

Rude Am I In My Speech, And Little Blessed With The Soft Phrase Of Peace.

Like A Red Morn That Ever Yet Betokened, Wreck To The Seaman, Tempest To The Field, Sorrow To The Shepherds, Woe Unto The Birds, Gusts And Foul Flaws To Herdmen And To Herds.

My Language! Heavens!i Am The Best Of Them That Speak This Speech. Were I But Where 'tis Spoken.

The Clamorous Owl That Nightly Hoots And Wonders At Our Quaint Spirits.