And Be These Juggling Friends No More

To Hell, Allegiance! Vows, To The Blackest Devil! Conscience, And Grace, To The Profoundest Pit! I Dare Damnation: To This Point I Stand,-- That Both The Worlds I Give To Negligence, Let Come What Comes; Only I'll Be Reveng'd.

The Seasons Alter: Hoary-headed Frosts Fall In The Fresh Lap Of The Crimson Rose.

If I May Trust The Flattering Truth Of Sleep, My Dreams Presage Some Joyful News At Hand. My Bosom's Lord Sits Lightly In His Throne, And All This Day An Unaccustomed Spirit Lifts Me Above The Ground With Cheerful Thoughts.

And Crispin Crispian Shall Ne'er Go By, From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother

Either Our History Shall With Full Mouth Speak Freely Of Our Acts, Or Else Our Grave, Like Turkish Mute, Shall Have A Tongueless Mouth, Not Worshipped With A Waxen Epitaph.