Whose golden touch could soften steel and stones,
80 Make tigers tame, and huge leviathans
Forsake unsounded deeps [to] dance on sands.
After your dire-lamenting elegies,
Visit by night your lady’s chamber-window
With some sweet [concert]; to their instruments
85 Tune a deploring dump: the night’s dead silence
Will well become such [sweet-complaining] grievance.
This, or else nothing, will inherit her.
Duke. This discipline shows thou hast been in love.