Father, thy woman driveth thee to lovers’ foppish folly

Forsooth, but dignity is coin I gladly trade for Cupid’s coveted ware — She is fair moonlight upon the waters of my soul

Speak narrow truth now Father for such promises my childish heart cannot but leap upon with faith

Tis ground I speak to catch thy eager feet, Child, and though it bury my ambition it lifteth me as well it quench my thirst