The Goddess of delight in her own sport
May strive to equal thee, but must come short.
Where hadst thou all thy breeding but from me?
Who bound thee first, and now have made thee free?
Thy petulant discourse, and apish toying,
A change of humours, now a sullen coying,
All which I taught thee, which do make thee rare,
Now are thy Attributes as well as fair:
And what content is in a simpering fool,
A squeamish thing, she doth mans spirits cool;