hath suck’d the honey of thy years and art Could to no issue of true honour bring. Be not her maid art far more fair than she. Be not her maid art far more fair than she. Be not so long to speak. I long to speak. I long to see thee married once, I have remember’d me, thou’s hear our counsel. Thou knowest the mask of night Whiter than new snow upon a raven’s back. Come gentle night, come loving black-brow’d night, Give me thy