Though She Be But Little,

Every Man Has His Fault, And Honesty Is His.

The Crown O' The Earth Doth Melt. My Lord! O, Wither'd Is The Garland Of The War, The Soldier's Pole Is Fall'n: Young Boys And Girls Are Level Now With Men; The Odds Is Gone, And There Is Nothing Left Remarkable Beneath The Visiting Moon.

Report Me And My Cause Aright.

If You Be King, Why Should Not I Succeed?

All's Well That Ends Well; Still The Fine's The Crown. Whate'er The Course, The End Is The Renown.