Sing praise of soft-lipped women? doth not shame
Sting thee, to sound this minstrel's note, and gild
A girl's proud face with praises, though her brow
Were bright as dawn's? And had her grace no name
For men to worship by? Her name?

DEBON.

Estrild.

CAMBER.

My brother is a prince of paramours -
Eyes coloured like the springtide sea, and hair
Bright as with fire of sundawn--face as fair
As mine is swart and worn with haggard hours,
Though less in years than his--such hap was ours
When chance drew forth for us the lots that were
Hid close in time's clenched hand: and now I swear,
Though his be goodlier than the stars or flowers,
I would not change this head of mine, or crown
Scarce worth a smile of his--thy lord Locrine's -
For that fair head and crown imperial; nay,
Not were I cast by force of fortune down
Lower than the lowest lean serf that prowls and pines
And loathes for fear all hours of night and day.

DEBON.

What says my lord? how means he?