Give To A Gracious Message An Host

Hal, If I Tell Thee A Lie, Spit In My Face, Call Me Horse.

Awake, Awake, English Nobility! Let Not Sloth Dim Your Horrors New-begot.

Corruption Wins Not More Than Honesty. Still In Thy Right Hand Carry Gentle Peace, To Silence Envious Tongues.

Yon Grey Lines That Fret The Clouds Are Messengers Of Day.

O No, Thy Love Though Much, Is Not So Great, It Is My Love That Keeps Mine Eye Awake, Mine Own True Love That Doth My Rest Defeat, To Play The Watchman Ever For Thy Sake. For Thee Watch I, Whilst Thou Dost Wake Elsewhere, From Me Far Off, With Others All Too Near.