The bitter past, more welcome is the sweet.
Pardon, gentles all, the flat unraised spirits that have dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.
'Tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.
Winter's not gone yet, if the wild geese fly that way.
False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
Our peace shall stand as firm as rocky mountains.