My Age Is As A Lusty Winter,

And Where The Offense Is, Let The Great Axe Fall.

Though Inclination Be As Sharp As Will, My Stronger Guilt Defeats My Strong Intent, And, Like A Man To Double Business Bound, I Stand In Pause Where I Shall First Begin, And Both Neglect.

Take No Repulse, Whatever She Doth Say; For 'get You Gone,' She Doth Not Mean 'away.' Flatter And Praise, Commend, Extol Their Graces; Though Ne'er So Black, Say They Have Angels' Faces

If By Chance I Talk A Little Wild, Forgive Me; I Had It From My Father.

The Lunatic, The Lover, And The Poet, Are Of Imagination All Compact.