Now am I rid of wife and mother,

But I can play the mourner easily:

I will give out how she has killed herself,

And make bold my displays of widow-grief,

The while in private,

I’ll mark the ending of our false design.

Burrus, now faintly does the morning come:

I think I shall find it easy to sleep.
Watch the city -

And wake me not when the faithful come,

I had rather be roused by it.

Now, let me not mind the keep:

I dream, I sleep.