Shut up the door: who loves me must not look <br> Upon the withered world, but haste to bring <br> His lighted candle, and his story-book, <br> And live with me the poetry of spring.
Can a woman not keep her lover without she study to always please him with pleasure? Pew! then let her give up the game. Or shall my lover think with pleasing of me to win me indeed? Faugh! he payeth me then; doth he think I am for hire?