When Thou Must Home
WHEN thou must home to shades of underground,And there arrived, a new admired guest,The beauteous spirits do engird thee round,White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,To hear the stories of thy finished love,From that smooth tongue whose music hell can move;Then wilt thou speak of banqueting delights,Of masks and revels which sweet youth did make,Of tourneys and great challenges of knights,And all these triumphs for thy beauties’ sake:When thou hast told these honours done to thee,Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murther me.