To Stand Against The Deep Dread-bolted Thunder,

Oh, I Have Passed A Miserable Night, So Full Of Ugly Sights, Of Ghastly Dreams!

Look, What Envious Streaks Do Lace The Severing Clouds In Yonder East! Night's Candles Are Burnt Out, And Jocund Day Stands Tip-toe On The Misty Mountain-tops.

What Ugly Sights Of Death Within Mine Eyes!

Words, Vows, Gifts, Tears, And Love's Full Sacrifice, He Offers In Another's Enterprise; But More In Troilus Thousand-fold I See Than In The Glass Of Pandar's Praise May Be, Yet Hold I Off.

If We Are Mark'd To Die, We Are Enow To Do Our Country Loss; And If To Live, The Fewer Men, The Greater Share Of Honour. God's Will! I Pray Thee; Wish Not One Man More.