In tears she utter'd as the frozen snow Touch'd by the spring's mild ray, begins to flow, So just began to melt his stubborn soul, As mild-ray'd pity o'er the tyrant stole; But destiny forbade: with eager zeal, Again pretended for the public weal, Her fierce accusers urged her speedy doom; Again dark rage diffused its horrid gloom O'er stern Alonzo's brow: swift at the sign, Their swords unsheathed around her brandish'd shine. O foul disgrace, of knighthood lasting stain, By men of arms a helpless lady slain!
Nor shall our cups make any guilty men: But, at our parting, we will be, as when We innocently met. No simple word, That shall be utter'd at our mirthful board, Shall make us sad next morning: or affright The liberty, that we'll enjoy tonight.Ben Jonson
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