2650I am surchargèd with the black-hued choler,
Which strikes my fancy with most ugly shapes.
I durst not rest a-darkness for a dolour,
Without a pillow-friend to scare those apes:
Let Cloe with conceits my spirits wing,
Or melancholy will my requiem sing.'
'You shall,' says she, 'have Sesamoidesse.
For all entreats are of too dull a print.
We must respect your father's worthiness,
His honour must your love and passions stint,