Nay, I Am The Very Pink Of

Grace Me No Grace, Nor Uncle Me No Uncle.

The Dear Father Would With His Daughter Speak, Commands Her Service; Are They Inform'd Of This?

That Is The Way To Lay The City Flat, To Bring The Roof To The Foundation, And Bury All, Which Yet Distinctly Ranges, In Heaps And Piles Of Ruin.

Your Hearts Are Mighty, Your Skins Are Whole.

To Fear The Foe, Since Fear Oppresseth Strength, Gives, In Your Weakness, Strength Unto Your Foe, And So Your Follies Fight Against Yourself. Fear, And Be Slain--so Worse Can Come To Fight; And Fight And Die Is Death Destroying Death, Where Fearing Dying Pays Death Servile Breath.