By whiting up the stones,
That you may moil her handiwork with smirch of dirty feet.
Or pray for her, and crape her,
As vestal to the draper,
To do the woful penance, of Canticranks to please;
Till worn out and weary,
Unto her bedroom eyrie,
She staggers up at midnight, then bring her to her knees;
Do anything, but let her
Enjoy a way, to better