Your Praises Will Become Your Wages.

From This Day To The Ending Of The World, But We In It Shall Be Remembered- We Few, We Happy Few, We Band Of Brothers; For He To-day That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother; Be He Ne’er So Vile, This Day Shall Gentle His Condition; And Gentlemen In England Now-a-bed Shall Think Themselves Accurs’d They Were Not Here, And Hold Their Manhoods Cheap Whiles Any Speaks That Fought With Us Upon Saint Crispin’s Day.

One Sin Another Doth Provoke.

Lords, Knights And Gentlemen, What I Should Say My Tears Gainsay; For Every Word I Speak, Ye See I Drink The Water Of My Eye.

When My Love Swears That She Is Made Of Truth, I Do Believe Her, Though I Know She Lies.

In Black Ink My Love May Still Shine Bright.