Pray

 

1          Thy maverick eyes, two untaught stones,

2          Her figure peruse converse to thine own,-

3          But treasure see, and ogling look-

4          Not be if from thy sockets stones took.

 

5          Thy rotten tongue, which chivalry balk,

6          Which her defame, and repugnantly talk-

7          Would not writhe, nor brood rank smut,

8          If from jaw would I thy tongue off cut.

 

9          Thy useless lips, wasters of breath:

10        Mine air which thy sour lips taketh.

11        No breath of mine would they poor use

12        If by my knife thy lips would lose.

 

13        No lips to shame, no tongue for speech,

14        Unless be thou mine help beseech.

15        Mine help is this: get on thine knees

16        Unless quick find thou thus deceased.