My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
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My heart hath one poor string to stay it by,
Which holds but till thy news be uttered,
And then all this thou seest is but a clod
And module of confounded royalty.

For evil news rides post, while good news baits.

For evil news rides post, while good news baits.

. . . by evil report and good report . . .

. . . by evil report and good report . . .

O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night,
Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible.

Who, or why, or which, or what,
Is the Akhond of Swat?

Who, or why, or which, or what,
Is the Akhond of Swat?

Ram thou fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Ram thou fruitful tidings in mine ears,
That long time have been barren.

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

Ill news is wing'd with fate, and flies apace.

Prithee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and the bad together: read more

Prithee, friend,
Pour out the pack of matter to mine ear,
The good and the bad together: he's friends with Caesar,
In state of health, thou say'st, and thou say'st, free.

He's gone, and who knows how may he report
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?

He's gone, and who knows how may he report
Thy words by adding fuel to the flame?