Foul Whisp'rings Are Abroad.

Four Days Will Quickly Steep Themselves In Nights; Four Nights Will Quickly Dream Away The Time; And Then The Moon, Like To A Silver Bow New Bent In Heaven, Shall Behold The Night Of Our Solemnities.

I Have No Way And Therefore Want No Eyes I Stumbled When I Saw. Full Oft 'tis Seen Our Means Secure Us, And Our Mere Defects Prove Our Commodities.

Not From The Stars Do I My Judgement Pluck, And Yet Methinks I Have Astronomy. But Not To Tell Of Good Or Evil Luck, Of Plagues, Of Dearths, Or Season's Quality; Nor Can I Fortune To Brief Minutes Tell ... Or Say With Princes If It Shall Go Well.

For The Success, Although Particular, Shall Give A Scantling Of Good Or Bad Unto The General; And In Such Indexes, Although Small Pricks To Their Subsequent Volumes, There Is Seen The Baby Figure Of The Giant Mass Of Things To Come At Large.

For In My Youth I Never Did Apply Hot And Rebellious Liquors In My Blood.