To Some Kind Of Men Their Graces

My Business Was Great, And In Such A Case As Mine A Man May Strain Courtesy.

Muster Your Wits; Stand In Your Own Defence.

My Tongue Will Tell The Anger Of My Heart, Or Else My Heart Concealing It Will Break.

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.

...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.