The Color Of The King Doth Come

Wise Men Ne'er Sit And Wail Their Woes, But Presently Prevent The Ways To Wail.

Such An Act That Blurs The Grace And Blush Of Modesty; Calls Virtue Hypocrite; Takes Off The Rose From The Fair Forehead Of An Innocent Love, And Sets A Blister There; Makes Marriage Vows As False As Dicers' Oaths.

Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain, Although Our Undivided Loves Are One.

Now, My Co-mates And Brothers In Exile, Hath Not Old Custom Made This Life More Sweet Than That Of Painted Pomp? Are Not These Woods More Free From Peril Than The Envious Court?

O Braggart Vile And Damned Furious Wight!