I Should Think This A Gull, But

To You Your Father Should Be As A God.

No, By My Soul, I Never In My Life Did Hear A Challenge Urged More Modestly, Unless A Brother Should A Brother Dare To Gentle Exercise And Proof Of Arms.

That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect, For Slander's Mark Was Ever Yet The Fair; The Ornament Of Beauty Is Suspect, A Crow That Flies In Heaven's Sweetest Air.

Wishers Were Ever Fools.

When That Churl Death My Bones With Dust Shall Cover.