He's Mad That Trusts In The Tameness

Muster Your Wits; Stand In Your Own Defence.

We May Outrun By Violent Swiftness And Lose By Over-running.

Truly The Souls Of Men Are Full Of Dread: Ye Cannot Reason Almost With A Man That Looks Not Heavily And Full Of Fear.

That Man That Hath A Tongue, I Say Is No Man, If With His Tongue He Cannot Win A Woman.

I Heard A Bustling Rumor Like A Fray, And The Wind Blows It From The Capitol.