Bondage Is Hoarse, And May

I'll Make My Heaven In A Lady's Lap

Thy Words, I Grant Are Bigger, For I Wear Not, My Dagger In My Mouth.

And How His Audit Stands Who Knows, Save Heaven?

Be Not Afeard; The Isle Is Full Of Noises, Sounds, And Sweet Airs, That Give Delight And Hurt Not. Sometimes A Thousand Twangling Instruments Will Hum About Mine Ears; And Sometime Voices, That, If I Then Had Waked After Long Sleep, Will Make Me Sleep Again: And Then, In Dreaming, The Clouds Methought Would Open, And Show Riches Ready To Drop Upon Me; That, When I Waked, I Cried To Dream Again.

Time Is The Old Justice That Examines All Such Offenders, And Let Time Try.