Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter.
Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.
When griping grief the heart doth wound, and doleful dumps the mind opresses, then music, with her silver sound, with speedy help doth lend redress.
Though it be honest, it is never good to bring bad news.
For man is a giddy thing, and this is my conclusion.
Make not your thoughts your prisons.