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.