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And then as cold as clay you turn,

And all my efforts fail to earn

Your kind accord; you do but shake

Awkward excuses, till I see

Most clearly that my gallantry

You find distasteful.

When abed

I seek with you to lay my head,

As worthy spouse should do at night,

My dues to claim, my debt to quite,

Your dizenments you cast aside,

And both for head and neck provide

White shrouds of linen, and from view

Hide ribbons, red and green and blue,

While all your robes of tissues fair

And costly on a rail in air

Are hung all night.

I pray you, tell

What use such things are but to sell

Or pawn? and if so be you do

Nor one nor t’other with them, you

May then expect such storms to break

Around your head as cause you shake

With terror: if your trash annoy

Me day-long through, and nought of joy

Gives me at night, what benefit

Or pleasure do I gain from it

More than a truss of river sedge,

Unless it be to sell or pledge?

And for yourself—to make an end—

If you have witting to attend