O England! Model To Thy Inward Greatness,

Bounty, Being Free Itself, Thinks All Others So.

Take All The Swift Advantage Of The Hours.

Lady, With Me, With Me Thy Fortune Lies.

Captain Of Our Fairy Band, Helena Is Here At Hand, And The Youth, Mistook By Me, Pleading For A Lover's Fee. Shall We Their Fond Pageant See? Lord, What Fools These Mortals Be!

It Comes To Pass Oft That A Terrible Oath, With A Swaggering Accent Sharply Twanged Off, Gives Manhood More Approbation Than Ever Proof Itself Would Have Earned Him.