War Is No Strife To The Dark

Beware Of Entrance To A Quarrel, But, Being In, Bear T That Th' Opposed May Beware Of Thee.

Thank Me No Thankings, Nor Proud Me No Prouds.

So Curses All Eve's Daughters Of What Complexion Soever.

What's More To Do, Which Would Be Planted Newly With The Time, As Calling Home Our Exiled Friends Abroad That Fled The Snares Of Watchful Tyranny, Producing Forth The Cruel Ministers Of This Dead Butcher And His Fiend-like Queen, Who, As 'tis Thought, By Self And Violent Hands Took Off Her Life; This, And What Needful Else That Calls Upon Us, By The Grace Of Grace We Will Perform In Measure, Time, And Place.

Canst Thou, O Partial Sleep, Give Thy Repose To The Wet Sea-boy In An Hour So Rude, And In The Calmest And Most Stillest Night, With All Appliances And Means To Boot, Deny It To A King?