Once More Unto The Breach, Dear Friends,

I Will Kill Thee A Hundred And Fifty Ways.

Simply The Thing That I Am Shall Make Me Live.

The Little Dogs And All, Tray, Blanch, And Sweetheart-see, They Bark At Me.

They Do Not Abuse The King That Flatter Him. For Flattery Is The Bellows Blows Up Sin; The Thing The Which Is Flattered, But A Spark To Which That Blast Gives Heat And Stronger Glowing.

What's Done Is Done. The Joy Is In The Doing.