In Scorn Of Nature, Art Gave Lifeless

Is He On His Horse? O Happy Horse, To Bear The Weight Of Antony!

...an Old Man Is Twice A Child.

Who Finds The Heifer Dead And Bleeding Fresh And Sees Fast-by A Butcher With An Axe, But Will Suspect 'twas He That Made The Slaughter?

Slander, Whose Whisper Over The World's Diameter, As Level As The Cannon To Its Blank, Transports Its Poisoned Shot.

As I Hope For Quiet Days, Fair Issue, And Long Life, With Such Love As 'tis Now, The Murkiest Den, The Most Opportune Place, The Strong'st Suggestion Our Worser Genius Can, Shall Never Melt Mine Honour Into Lust, To Take Away The Edge Of That Day's Celebration, When I Shall Think Or Phoebus' Steeds Are Founder'd Or Night Kept Chain'd Below.