Widows, their mourning in her face shall see!
Children, their duty in her speech discern!
And all of them in love with each, but I:
Who fear her love, will make me fear to die!
"My Orisons are still to please this creature!
My Valour sleeps but when She is defended!
My Wits still jaded but when I praise her feature!
My Life is hers; in her begun and ended!
O happy day wherein I wear not willow!