Good Fortune Then! To Make Me Blest

Think, When We Talk Of Horses, That You See Them Printing Their Proud Hoofs I' The Receiving Earth.

Though I Look Old, Yet I Am Strong And Lusty; For In My Youth I Never Did Apply Hot And Rebellious Liquors In My Blood; And Did Not, With Unbashful Forehead, Woo The Means Of Weakness And Debility: Therefore My Age Is As A Lusty Winter, Frosty But Kindly.

Go, Write It In A Martial Hand; Be Curst And Brief; It Is No Matter How Witty, So It Be Eloquent And Fun Of Invention: Taunt Him With The Licence Of Ink: If Thou Thou'st Him Some Thrice, It Shall Not Be Amiss; And As Many Lies As Will Lie In Thy Shee.

Sometimes We Are Devils To Ourselves When We Will Tempt The Frailty Of Our Powers, Presuming On Their Changeful Potency.

Did He So Often Lodge In Open Field, In Winter's Cold And Summer's Parching Heat, To Conquer France, His True Inheritance?