A High Hope For A

The Cunning Livery Of Hell.

Make Me A Willow Cabin At Your Gate, And Call Upon My Soul Within The House; Write Loyal Cantons Of Contemned Love And Sing Them Loud Even In The Dead Of Night.

Every Subject's Duty Is The King's; But Every Subject's Soul Is His Own. Therefore, Should Every Soldier In The Wars Do As Every Sick Man In His Bed, Wash Every Mote Out Of His Conscience; And Dying So, Death Is To Him Advantage; Or Not Dying, The Time Was Blessedly Lost Wherein Such Preparation Was Gained; And In Him That Escapes, It Were No Sin To Think That, Making God So Free An Offer, He Let Him Outlive The Day To See His Greatness And To Teach Others How They Should Prepare.

I Shall Laugh Myself To Death At This Puppy-headed Monster!

Till Our King Henry Had Shook Hands With Death.