Filthy harlots, the Lord's grape With lore ornamentéd entreating Hollow heartéd, heart-departéd Yet thou reapest the blooming rose When 'tis the weed which is to be swath'd I do in the blooming flower pleasure find And me in the yesterday's blind — Innocence is reserved for the meek — Of naught is my grasp ne'er to be! Hah! for thee even a hound holdeth the throne. Unwantéd child of mother! - Plague of plagues! Father of leprous children. I wield ye to stint this brawl Nigh is the ford yet harken. Do not thwart Desirest thou to do it withal I shall cause thy body by one head too short! Sayest ye nay to my boon Then wilt thou from bloodshed swoon — Err me not! Must ye bethink my foolhardiness — Be vanishéd! Be banishéd — If ye deemest me not wroth — My hand hieth to unsheathe the sword — Lest thou tost totter — Whid along! Wherefore irk my haughtiness? No man, no man at all — Wherefore bereave Be it lord or beggar — The kine of the sward? Bereaveth my dignity! — Wherefore holdest thou for — Me such quailing scowl? Loom my darling sun Bear the scarlet colour