Advance our standards, set upon our foes; Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
You, mistress, That have the office opposite to Saint Peter, And keep the gate of hell!
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips,Straining upon the start. The game's afoot:Follow your spirit; and upon this chargeCry "God for Harry! England and Saint George!
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.
Great men may jest with saints; 'tis wit in them; But, in the less foul profanation.
To-morrow is Saint Valentine's day, All in the morning betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your Valentine.
Good morrow, 'tis Saint Valentine's Day, All in the morn betime, And I a maid at your window, To be your valentine.
I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, Straining upon the start. The game's afoot; Follow your spirit: and upon this charge, Cry — God for Harry! England and Saint George!
And thus I clothe my naked villainy With odd old ends stol'n out of holy writ; And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.