NIGHT!

(from "The Revenger's Tragedy")

by: Cyril Tourneur (c.1575-1626)

      IGHT! thou that look'st like funeral heralds' fees,
      Torn down betimes i' the morning, thou hang'st fitly
      To grace those sins that have no grace at all.
      Now 'tis full sea abed over the world:
      There's juggling of all sides; some that were maids
      E'en at sunset, are now perhaps i' the toll-book. [1]
      This woman in immodest thin apparel
      Lets in her friend by water; here a dame
      Cunning nails leather hinges to a door,
      To avoid proclamation.
      Now cuckolds are coining, apace, apace, apace, apace!
      And careful sisters spin that thread i' the night,
      That does maintain them and their bawds i' the day.

MORE POEMS BY CYRIL TOURNEUR

1 A register of horses to be sold at fairs.

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