For we, which now behold these present days, Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
Master, go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp with truth and loyalty.
I am not of that feather, to shake off my friend when he must need me
Now, neighbor confines, purge you of your scum! Have you a ruffian that will swear, drink, dance, revel the night, rob, murder, and commit the oldest sins the newest kind of ways?
The common curse of mankind, folly and ignorance, be thine in great revenue!
'Tis the soldier's life to have their balmy slumbers waked with strife.