This Is A Way To Kill A

Ay, That Incestuous, That Adulterate Beast, With Witchcraft Of His Wit, With Traitorous Gifts- O Wicked Wit And Gifts, That Have The Power So To Seduce!

And Then He Drew A Dial From His Poke, And Looking With Lack-lustre Eye, Says Very Wisely, 'it Is Ten O'clock: Thus We May See', Quoth He, 'how The World Wags: 'tis But An Hour Ago Since It Was Nine, And After One Hour More 'twill Be Eleven; And So From Hour To Hour We Ripe And Ripe, And Then From Hour To Hour We Rot And Rot.

A Great Cause Of The Night Is Lack Of The Sun.

Of All Complexions The Culled Sovereignty Do Meet, As At A Fair, In Her Fair Cheek, Where Several Worthies Make One Dignity, Where Nothing Wants That Want Itself Doth Seek.

Fight, Gentlemen Of England! Fight, Bold Yeomen! Draw, Archers, Draw Your Arrows To The Head! Spur Your Proud Horses Hard, And Ride In Blood; Amaze The Welkin With Your Broken Staves!