My Hands Are Of Your

Light Vanity, Insatiate Cormorant, Consuming Means, Soon Preys Upon Itself.

There's Rosemary And Rue. These Keep Seeming And Savor All The Winter Long. Grace And Remembrance Be To You.

Now Let It Work. Mischief, Thou Art Afoot. Take Thou What Course Thou Wilt.

For My Part, I May Speak It To My Shame, I Have A Truant Been To Chivalry; And So I Hear He Doth Account Me Too.

The Bay-trees In Our Country Are All Withered, And Meteors Fright The Fixèd Stars Of Heaven. The Pale-faced Moon Looks Bloody On The Earth, And Lean-looked Prophets Whisper Fearful Change. Rich Men Look Sad, And Ruffians Dance And Leap; The One In Fear To Lose What They Enjoy, The Other To Enjoy By Rage And War. These Signs Forerun The Death Or Fall Of Kings.