[King Knight defeats the Troupple King.] / Troupple Acolyte: 'HALT! I BESEECH THEE! PLEASE, NO MORE!'

Ages to come, and men unborn, / Shall bless her name, and sigh her fate.

For Mistresse Bride, the wedding Cake: Knead but the Dow, and it will be To paste of Almonds turn’d by thee: Or kisse it thou, but once, or twice, And for the Bride-Cake ther’l be Spice.

[…] as the brightest day has its overcastings, so the best men in this life have their imperfections […]