This Cold Night Will Turn Us All

Rumour: "upon My Tongues Continual Slanders Ride, The Which In Every Language I Pronounce, Stuffing The Ears Of Men With False Reports.

Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds

See What A Ready Tongue Suspicion Hath!

Time Hath, My Lord, A Wallet At His Back Wherein He Puts Alms For Oblivion, A Great-sized Monster Of Ingratitudes: Those Scraps Are Good Deeds Past, Which Are Devour'd As Fast As They Are Made, Forgot As Soon As Done.

Abate The Edge Of Traitors, Gracious Lord, That Would Reduce These Bloody Days Again And Make Poor England Weep In Streams Of Blood! Let Them Not Live To Taste This Land's Increase That Would With Treason Wound This Fair Land's Peace! Now Civil Wounds Are Stopped, Peace Lives Again: That She May Long Live Here, God Say Amen!