Your issues fair, the product of your brain.
But stay, I must recal my self for know
My praises are like to your self, too low:
Troth when I view you well, my fancy must
Imagine you much like a Capon trust,
Or like Sir Hudibras, nick-nam’d All-feather,
Or like one ty’d both neck and heels together:
Nor do not think Pygmean Sir that I
Will fall in love with meer deformity;
Then court some Succubus, a fiend will be