fearful hooks: Being held a foe, he may not have access To breathe such vows as lovers use to jest. Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise. And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in the farthest east begin to draw The shady curtains from Aurora’s bed, Away from light steals home my heavy son, And private in his chamber pens himself, Shuts up his windows, locks fair daylight out And makes himself an artificial night. Black and portentous must this humour prove,