Athousand times good-night!
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from their books;
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.
Hist! Romeo, hist! O! for a falconer's voice, To lure this tassel-gentle back again.
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud,
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,
With repetition of my Romeo's name.
It is my soul that calls upon my name:
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night, Like softest music to attending earse!
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