[♦] So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
[♦] Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings.
Yet, if this servile usage once offend,
[♦] Go and be free again as Suffolk’s friend. [She is going.
[60] O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;
My hand would free her, but my heart says no.
[♦] As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
65 Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: