How Easy It Is For

I Have A Soul Of Lead So Stakes Me To The Ground I Cannot Move.

There Are No Tricks In Plain And Simple Faith.

What Stronger Breastplate Than A Heart Untainted! Thrice Is He Arm'd, That Hath His Quarrel Just.

Be Not Afeard; The Isle Is Full Of Noises, Sounds, And Sweet Airs, That Give Delight And Hurt Not. Sometimes A Thousand Twangling Instruments Will Hum About Mine Ears; And Sometime Voices, That, If I Then Had Waked After Long Sleep, Will Make Me Sleep Again: And Then, In Dreaming, The Clouds Methought Would Open, And Show Riches Ready To Drop Upon Me; That, When I Waked, I Cried To Dream Again.

We Few. We Happy Few. We Band Of Brothers, For He Today That Sheds His Blood With Me Shall Be My Brother.