I do not love to have my pillow addle,
340Meanwhile my woman lets your lordship blood.
I am no Androgyne, nor do delight
To diet pages, or your Catamite.'
'Madam, what passion does untune your mind?
What fiend' (says he) 'in you thus rails on greatness?
Who viceth honour, lies, and he is blind
That says court-satins are not trimmed with neatness.
Speak then in balms, forget the peevish why,
And to the "Wilt thou have this"—Answer "Ay".'