So that they must through Argus headpiece pass
Which seek here to enkindle Cupid's flame.
I know your jealous matron does discover
How my faint heart about your breast does hover.'
'Sir,' says Bellama, 'there is no such haste.
1270Time will appoint our loves some fitter seasons,
My father must ungirdle first my waist,
Love will not be repelled by force, but reasons:
And more, you know it is in vain to strive,
Here's no escaping this monastic hive.