Be Not Thy Tongue Thy

Lords, Knights And Gentlemen, What I Should Say My Tears Gainsay; For Every Word I Speak, Ye See I Drink The Water Of My Eye.

The Color Of The King Doth Come And Go, Between His Purpose And His Conscience, Like Heralds 'twixt Two Dreadful Battles Set: His Passion Is So Ripe, It Needs Must Break.

Thy Best Of Rest Is Sleep, And That Thou Oft Provok'st; Yet Grossly Fear'st Thy Death, Which Is No More.

Slanders, Sir, For The Satirical Rogue Says Here That Old Men Have Grey Beards, That Their Faces Are Wrinkled, Their Eyes Purging Think Amber And Plum-tree Gum, And That They Have A Plentiful Lack Of Wit, Together With Most Weak Hams.

Watch Tonight, Pray Tomorrow. Gallants, Lads, Boys, Hearts Of Gold, All The Titles Of Good Fellowship Come To You!