That what you like, I'll freely call my choice:
For beauty, brought by you, does fires teen.
Carry this message back, tell her 'tis best
1070That hers should heat my bosom, I her breast.'
'Peace, peace.' quoth she, 'speak not a work of love,
For fear my anger scorns and folly writes.
Eagles love eagles, and the dove the dove.
Hawks brook not buzzards: or the pheasant kites.
Equals love equals: but unequal flame
Is teened with folly, and expires with shame.'