To England Will I Steal, And There

I Always Thought It Was Both Impious And Unnatural That Such Immanity And Bloody Strife Should Reign Among Professors Of One Faith.

O, Grief Hath Changed Me Since You Saw Me Last, And Careful Hours With Time's Deformed Hand Have Written Strange Defeatures In My Face. But Tell Me Yet, Dost Thou Not Know My Voice?

Tired With All These, For Restful Death I Cry.

Right Joyous Are We To Behold Your Face, Most Worthy Brother England; Fairly Met!

Cry Havoc And Let Slip The Dogs Of War!