Would'st count the strings upon an angel's harp?
Forbear, forbear.

Oh let me love my Lord more fathom deep
Than there is line to sound with: let me love
My fellow not as men that mandates keep:
Yea, all that's lovable, below, above, [11]
That let me love by heart, by heart, because
(Free from the penal pressure of the laws)
I find it fair.

The tears I weep by day and bitter night,
Opinion! for thy sole salt vintage fall.
-- As morn by morn I rise with fresh delight,
Time through my casement cheerily doth call,
"Nature is new, 'tis birthday every day,
Come feast with me, let no man say me nay,
Whate'er befall." [21]

So fare I forth to feast: I sit beside
Some brother bright: but, ere good-morrow's passed,
Burly Opinion wedging in hath cried,
"Thou shalt not sit by us, to break thy fast,
Save to our Rubric thou subscribe and swear --
`Religion hath blue eyes and yellow hair':
She's Saxon, all."

Then, hard a-hungered for my brother's grace
Till well-nigh fain to swear his folly's true,
In sad dissent I turn my longing face [31]