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