The Gods Are Just, And Of Our

For This, Be Sure, Tonight Thou Shalt Have Cramps, Side-stitches That Shall Pen Thy Breath Up. Urchins Shall Forth At Vast Of Night That They May Work All Exercise On Thee. Thou Shalt Be Pinched As Thick As Honeycomb, Each Pinch More Stinging Than Bees That Made 'em.

Look To Her, Moor, If Thou Has Eyes To See. She Has Deceived Her Father, And May Thee.

And Sleep, That Sometime Shuts Up Sorrow's Eye, Steal Me Awhile From Mine Own Company.

There Is No Slander In An Allowed Fool, Though He Do Nothing But Rail.

Even Through The Hollow Eyes Of Death I Spy Life Peering.