1 Well, may you see things well done there.
2 My dull brain was wrought With things forgotten.
3 Such welcome and unwelcome things at once 'Tis hard to reconcile.'
4 Strange things I have in head, that will to hand, Which must be acted ere they may be scann'd.
5 Good things of day begin to droop and drowse, Whiles night's black agents to their preys do rouse.
6 Faith, sir, we were carousing till the second cock; and drink, sir, is a great provoker of three things.
7 Think of this, good peers, But as a thing of custom: 'tis no other, Only it spoils the pleasure of the time.'
8 I shall do so; But I must also feel it as a man: I cannot but remember such things were, That were most precious to me.
9 Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell: Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, Yet grace must still look so.
10 Threescore and ten I can remember well, Within the volume of which time I have seen Hours dreadful and things strange, but this sore night Hath trifled former knowings.
11 But let the frame of things disjoint, Both the worlds suffer, Ere we will eat our meal in fear, and sleep In the affliction of these terrible dreams That shake us nightly.
12 Nothing in his life Became him like the leaving it; he died As one that had been studied in his death, To throw away the dearest thing he ow'd As 'twere a careless trifle.'
13 Tis his main hope; For where there is advantage to be given, Both more and less have given him the revolt, And none serve with him but constrained things, Whose hearts are absent too.