Step 1 of 6 · Read it through once
Section 482
Passage 1 of 3 · section 482 of 941
1King.
2What, doth my Lord of Suffolke comfort me?
3Came he right now to sing a Rauens Note,
4Whose dismall tune bereft my Vitall powres:
5And thinkes he, that the chirping of a Wren,
6By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
7Can chafe away the first‑conceiued sound?
8Hide not thy poyson with such sugred words,