move: O sweet Maria, empress of my love! These numbers will I tear, and write in prose. O, rhymes are guards on wanton Cupid's hose: Disfigure not his slop. This same shall go. Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye, 'Gainst whom the world cannot hold argument, Persuade my heart to this false perjury? Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment. A woman I forswore; but I will prove, Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee: My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love; Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me. Vows are but breath, and breath a vapour is: Then thou, fair sun, which on my earth dost shine, Exhalest this vapour-vow; in thee it is: If broken then, it is no fault of mine: If by me broke, what fool is not so wise To lose an oath to win a paradise? This is the liver-vein, which makes flesh a deity, A green goose a goddess: pure, pure idolatry. God amend us, God amend! we are much out o' the way. By whom shall I send this?--Company! stay. All hid, all hid; an old infant play. Like a demigod here sit I in the sky. And wretched fools' secrets heedfully o'ereye. More sacks to the mill! O heavens, I have my wish! Dumain transform'd! four woodcocks in a dish! O most divine Kate! O most profane coxcomb! By heaven, the wonder in a mortal eye! By earth, she is not, corporal, there you lie. Her amber hair for foul hath amber quoted. An amber-colour'd raven was well noted. As upright as the cedar. Stoop, I say; Her shoulder is with child. As fair as day. Ay, as some days; but then no sun must shine. O that I had my wish! And I had mine! And I mine too, good Lord! Amen, so I had mine: is not that a good word? I would forget her; but a fever she Reigns in my blood and will remember'd be. A fever in your blood! why, then incision Would let her out in saucers: sweet misprision! Once more I'll read the ode that I have writ. Once more I'll mark how love can vary wit. On a day--alack the day!-- Love, whose month is ever May, Spied a blossom passing fair Playing in the wanton air: Through the velvet leaves the wind, All unseen, can passage find; That the lover, sick to death, Wish himself the heaven's breath. Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may