I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,
Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,[80:2]
And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings
His soul and body to their lasting rest.
King John. Act v. Sc. 7.
Now my soul hath elbow-room.
King John. Act v. Sc. 7.
This England never did, nor never shall,
Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror.
King John. Act v. Sc. 7.