📔 The Winter's Tale

The blessed gods / Purge all infection from our air whilst you / Do climate here!

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge, / With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!

as she hath / Been publicly accused, so shall she have / A just and open trial

Was not my Lord / The veryer Wag o'th' two?

I dare lay mine honour / He will remain so.