I would challenge you to a battle of wits, but I see you are unarmed!
For he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royally.
But I will wear my heart upon my sleeve For daws to peck at: I am not what I am.
'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, but to support them after.
On the bat’s back I do fly After summer merrily.
Grace and remembrance be to you both.