For I understand, now, That it was not love: It was merely my mistempered; Beshrewed list, For what is só scarce In this marred world:
She, Is oft misused and no one descrys thee engrossing forfullment she gives: Like a mantle of a paramour, On a flesh penetrating night...
Marry! My heart feels tossed on the abstract, For I was overturned with the conceit Of being Your Thisbe... Your Trojan princess... Your right-hand-lady...
But Sir, My heart, now Desires but one thing: To be announced as one's kindred And be loved as a kingsman
I am content, in faith! Let us lief love With a love, greater than love, And may we build with flint On the foundation of vestal love. Let us be one another's bier When our bodies brine; Ghostly anchor... Pilot in the bailful pestilence; Crotchet in woe; Behoveful paramour to tell aught to Without the conceit of neither being cast by Nor discreet; Aqua vitae dram in languish...
When thát day abroach I shall anon be aught... Do aught for thy...
When thát day abroach I shall doff All inadequasies... And love you Invariably!