Then at the vantage will I take Cordella
Even as she doth protest she loves me best,
Ile say, Then, daughter, graunt me one request,
To shew thou louest me as thy sisters doe,
Accepte a husband, whom my selfe will woo.
This sayd, she cannot well deny my sute,
Although (poore soule) her sences will be mute:
Then will I tryumph in my policy,
And match her with a King of Brittany.
Behold yond simp'ring dame,
Whose face between her forks presages snow;
That minces virtue, and does shake the head
To hear of pleasure's name --