‘Tis time to fear when tyrants seems to kiss.

Which care of them$$$ not pity of myself$$$
Who am no more but as the tops of trees.
Which fence the roots they grow by and defend them$$$
Makes both my body pine and soul to languish.

Murder’s as near to lust as flame to smoke.

Few love to hear the sins they love to act

For death remembered should be like a mirror
Who tells us life’s but breath$$$ to trust it error.

To sing a song that old was sung
From ashes ancient Gower is come

I'll make a voyage to the Holy Land
To wash this blood off from my guilty hand.

Though I did wish him dead$$$
I hate the murd’rer$$$ love him murdered.

For now the devil that told me I did well
Says that this deed is chronicled in hell.
This dead king to the living king I'll bear. –
Take hence the rest$$$ and give them burial here.

I wasted time$$$ and now doth time waste me.