Take thou of me, sweet pillowes, sweetest bed; A chamber deafe of noise, and blind of light, A rosie garland and a weary hed.
My thoughts, imprisoned in my secret woes, with flamy breaths do issue oft in sound.
Blasphemous words betray the vain foolishness of the speaker.
Sin is the mother, and shame the daughter of lewdness.
They love indeed who quake to say they love.
Shallow brooks murmur most, deep and silent slide away.