Farewell, Good Salisbury, And Good Luck Go

Thou Hast Her, France; Let Her Be Thine, For We Have No Such Daughter, Nor Shall Ever See That Face Of Hers Again. Therefore Be Gone Without Our Grace, Our Love, Our Benison.

I Hold My Peace, Sir? No; No, I Will Speak As Liberal As The North; Let Heaven And Men And Devils, Let Them All, All, All, Cry Shame Against Me, Yet I'll Speak.

Besides, They Are Our Outward Consciences, And Preachers To Us All, Admonishing That We Should Drew Us Fairly For Our End.

I Am Now Of All Humors That Have Showed Themselves Humors Since The Old Days Of Goodman Adam To The Pupil Age Of This Present Twelve O'clock At Midnight.

I Will Speak Daggers To Her, But Use None.