When thou must home to shades of
underground,
And there arrived, a new admired guest,
The beauteous spirits do engirt 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 masques and revels which sweet youth did
make,
Of tourneys and great challenges of
knights,
And all these triumphs for thy beauty's sake:
When thou hast told these honours done to thee,
Then tell, O tell, how thou didst murder me.
