Are batt'ring rams and guns that speak in thunder,
[300]To crack a breast, and split a heart in sunder.
But my mind is Diana's chastest seat,
O'er which the breath of greatness hath no power;
The quiver-bearing boy sounds a retreat,
And Jove avails not with his yellow shower,
The vestal fire outshines blind Cupid's flame
Which oft's eclipsed with sorrow damped with shame.
And, troth, my lord, had I but wit enough
T' assist your lordship in your nuptial tede,