Now, Loue, If Thou Wilt Proue A Conqueror, Subdue Thys Tyrant Euer Martyring Mee; And But Appoint Me For Her Tormentor, Then For A Monarch Will I Honour Thee. My Hart Shall Be The Prison For My Fayre; Ile Fetter Her In Chaines Of Purest Loue, My Sighs Shall Stop The Passage Of The Ayre: This Punishment The Pittilesse May Moue. With Teares Out Of The Channels Of Mine Eyes SHe'st Quench Her Thirst As Duly As They Fall: Kinde Words Vnkindest Meate I Can Deuise, My Sweet, My Faire, My Good, My Best Of All. Ile Binde Her Then With My Torne-Tressed Haire, And Racke Her With A Thousand Holy Wishes; Then, On A Place Prepared For Her There, Ile Execute Her With A Thousand Kisses. Thus Will I Crucifie, My Cruell Shee; Thus Ile Plague Her Which Hath So Plagued Mee.