love; O’er courtiers’ knees, that dream on curtsies straight; O’er lawyers’ fingers, who straight on kisses dream, Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues, Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are: Sometime she gallops night by night Through lovers’ brains, and then starts up, And quench the fire of your nine lives; that I am sure, I have need of many orisons To move the heavens upon this holy act That after-hours with sorrow chide us not.