If This Were Played Upon A Stage

Confess Yourself To Heaven, Repent What's Past, Avoid What Is To Come, And Do Not Spread The Compost On The Weeds To Make Them Ranker.

I Am Joined With No Foot Land-rakers, No Long-staff, Sixpenny Strikers, None Of These Mad, Mustachio Purple-hued Maltworms, But With Nobility And Tranquillity.

Though Music Oft Hath Such A Charm To Make Bad Good, And Good Provoke To Harm.

The Breaking Of So Great A Thing Should Make A Greater Crack: The Round World Should Have Shook Lions Into Civil Streets, And Citizens To Their Dens.

While He Was Drunk Asleep, Or In His Rage, Or In The Incestuous Pleasure Of His Bed.