Hell hath no limits, nor is circumscribed In one self place, for where we are is hell, And where hell is there must we ever be.
Is it not passing brave to be a King and ride in triumph through Persepolis?
Above our life we love a steadfast friend.
Jigging veins of rhyming mother wits.
What are kings, when regiment is gone, but perfect shadows in a sunshine day?
I'm armed with more than complete steel, - The justice of my quarrel.
