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Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! Ah, who shall hinder me to wail and weep, New widows howl; new orphans cry; new sorrows Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring; GREAT! Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep. Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss. To cry, "Hold, hold!" And make poor England weep in streams of blood! My fate cries out, That he should weep for her? What would he do, The cry is still, "They come:" our castle's strength Whips out his rapier, cries 'A rat, a rat!' How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?