For Brutus Is An Honourable Man; So

The King Hath Note Of All That They Intend, By Interception Which They Dream Not Of.

My Rage Is Gone, And I Am Struck With Sorrow. Take Him Up. Help, Three O' Th' Chiefest Soldiers; I'll Be One. Beat Thou The Drum, That It Speaks Mournfully, Trail Your Steel Spikes. Though In This City He Hath Widowed And Unchilded Many A One, Which To This Hour Bewail The Injury, Yet He Shall Have A Noble Memory. Assist.

Eternity Was In Our Lips And Eyes, Bliss In Our Brows' Bent; None Our Parts So Poor But Was A Race Of Heaven.

By A Divine Instinct, Men's Minds Mistrust Ensuing Danger; As, By Proof, We See The Waters Swell Before A Boisterous Storm.

We Do Not Keep The Outward Form Of Order, Where There Is Deep Disorder In The Mind.