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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539451" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>On A Gentlewoman That Sung And Play'd Upon A Lute</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539451" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Be silent you still musique of the Sphears,<br>And every sense make haste to be all ears,<br>And give devout attention to her aires,<br>To which the Gods doe listen as to prayers<br>Of pious votaries; the which to heare<br>Tumult would be attentive, and would swear<br>To keep lesse noise at Nile, if there she sing,<br>Or with a happy touch grace but the string.<br>Among so many auditors, such throngs<br>Of Gods and men that presse to hear her songs,<br>O let me have an unespied room,<br>And die with such an anthem ore my tomb</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=William+Strode">William Strode</a></strong></div>

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