Know of your youth, examine well your blood,
[069] Whether, if you yield not to your father’s choice,
070 You can endure the livery of a nun;
For aye to be in shady cloister mew’d,
To live a barren sister all your life,
Chanting faint hymns to the cold fruitless moon.
Thrice-blessed they that master so their blood,
075 To undergo such maiden pilgrimage;
[076] But earthlier happy is the rose distill’d,
Than that which, withering on the virgin thorn,