To Take Arms Against A

O Judgment ! Thou Art Fled To Brutish Beasts, And Men Have Lost Their Reason !

Men Are April When They Woo, December When They Wed. Maids Are May When They Are Maids, But The Sky Changes When They Are Wives.

Like As The Waves Make Towards The Pebbled Shore, So Do Our Minutes Hasten To Their End; Each Changing Place With That Which Goes Before, In Sequent Toil All Forwards Do Contend.

But I Remember Now I Am In This Earthly World, Where To Do Harm Is Often Laudable, To Do Good Sometime Accounted Dangerous Folly.

Let Me, If Not By Birth, Have Lands By Wit; All With Me's Meet That I Can Fashion Fit.