[Tutelage]

Nature's lay idiot, I taught thee to love,And in that sophistry, O, thou dost proveToo subtle; fool, thou didst not understandThe mystic language of the eye nor hand;Nor couldst thou judge the difference of the airOf sighs, and say, "This lies, this sounds despair";Nor by th' eye's water cast a maladyDesperately hot, or changing feverously.I had not taught thee then the alphabetOf flowers, how they, devisefully being setAnd bound up, might with speechless secrecyDeliver errands mutely, and mutually.Remember since all thy words used to beTo every suitor, "Ay, if my friends agree";Since household charms, thy husband's name to teach,Were all the love-tricks that thy wit could reach ;And since an hour's discourse could scarce have madeOne answer in thee, and that ill arrayedIn broken proverbs, and torn sentences.Thou art not by so many duties hisThat from the world's common having sever'd thee,Inlaid thee, neither to be seen, nor seeAs mine ; who have with amorous delicaciesRefin'd thee into a blissful paradise.Thy graces and good works my creatures be;I planted knowledge and life's tree in thee;Which O ! shall strangers taste? Must I alasFrame and enamel plate, and drink in glass?Chafe wax for other's seals? break a colt's force,And leave him then, being made a ready horse?