That men with men together might engender,
As grafts of trees, one from another rise;
Then nought, of due, to women should we render!
But, vain conceit! that Nature should do this;
Since, well we know, herself a woman is!
XXXIV.
Upon the altar where Love's fires burnèd,
My Sighs and Tears for sacrifice I offered;
When Love, in rage, from me his countenance turnèd,