3850For well he knew the monthly hornèd queen
No oft'ner fills her orb than she her spleen.
He Nature blamed, he could no faster run;
But, coming to the gate, the porter oped,
Who, much appalled to see a youthful nun,
Says, 'Mistress, do you travel to be coped?
Give me my fee: for sure, a plump-cheeked lass
Shall not the porter's lodge unkissèd pass.'
He could not quiet his impatient lust
Till he had shown the ensigns of his habit;