Where Souls Do Couch On Flowers We'll

What Freezings I Have Felt, What Dark Days Seen, What Old December's Bareness Everywhere!

A Horse, A Horse, My Kingdom For A Horse!

Glory Grows Guilty Of Detested Crimes.

Nothing 'gainst Times Scythe Can Make Defence.

Our Remedies Oft In Ourselves Do Lie, Which We Ascribe To Heaven.