The night comes on, and murder doth begin
To act her part within the fatall Tower,
In that dead time of night, the cloake of sinne,
In which the clock chimes twelue, the chiefest houre
When sleepe on man and beast doth vse his powre,
Both the rude slaues on vs poore infants flie,
As we together in our bed did lie.
62.
Betwixt the sheets they keepe vs downe by force,
We struggle against death with gasping grones,