Reading Measure, for Measure — William Shakespeare

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Mar.

Breake off thy song, and haste thee quick away,

Here comes a man of comfort, whose aduice

Hath often still'd my brawling discontent.

I cry you mercie, Sir, and well could wish

You had not found me here so musicall.

Let me excuse me, and beleeue me so,

My mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my

woe.

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