WIT.
Nature, my sovereign queen and parent passing dear,
Whose force I am enforced to know and 'knowledge everywhere,
This care of mine, though it be bred within my breast,
Yet it is not so ripe as yet to breed me great unrest,
So run I to and fro with hap luck as I find,
Now fast, now loose: now hot, now cold: inconstant as the wind,
I feel myself in love, yet not inflamed so,
But causes move me now and then to let such fancies go,
Which causes prevailing sets each thing else in doubt
Much like the nail, that last came in, and drives the former out.
Wherefore my suit is this: that it would please your grace
To settle this unsettled head in some assured place:
To lead me through the thick, to guide me all the way,
To point me where I may achieve my most desired pray,
For now again of late I kindle in desire,
And pleasure pricketh forth my youth to feel a greater fire.
What though I be too young to show her sport in bed,
Yet are there many in this land that at my years do wed,
And though I wed not yet, yet am I old enou'
To serve my lady to my power, and to begin to woo.
NATURE.
What is that lady, son, which thus thy heart doth move?
WIT.
A lady, whom it might beseem high Jove himself to love.
NATURE.
Who taught thee her to love, or hast thou seen her face?
WIT.
Nor this nor that, but I heard men talk of her apace.
NATURE.
What is her name?
WIT.
Reason is her sire, Experience her dame,
The lady now is in her flower, and Science is her name.
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