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Sound Trumpets! Let Our Bloody Colours Wave! And Either Victory, Or Else A Grave.

Alack, The Night Comes On, And The Bleak Winds Do Sorely Ruffle; For Many Miles About There's Scarce A Bush.

Of All Base Passions, Fear Is The Most Accursed.

I Like Not Fair Terms And A Villain's Mind.

But Since The Affairs Of Men Rests Still Incertain, Let's Reason With The Worst That May Befall.