The painful warrior famous for fight, After a thousand victories, once foil'd, Is from the books of honor razed quite, And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd
All surfeit is the father of much fast.
What light through yonder window breaks?
Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.
Right joyous are we to behold your face, Most worthy brother England; fairly met!
Now entertain conjecture of a time When creeping murmur and the poring dark Fills the wide vessel of the universe.