The crystal casements of his soul did ope
To let in th' object of his joy and pleasure:
But when he thought t' have found his lovely lass,
His love was lady-smocks, his lady grass.
He searched with stricter care each bush and bow'r,
1420Than did the fairy king and Hob his man;
Throwing his eyes into each branchèd tow'r,
And midst the sharp'ned pikes of brambles ran.
Pricked forward with desire, enraged with spite,
And venteth here what love and hate indite.