Thy aide, deere Tulley, Be thou an Orratour for Lentulus, My tongue stands tun[è]d to a harsher method; Breath in her eares, those Organs of receite, A quintessence distild of honny words, And charme with a beguiling lullabye Her free consent to thine and my request: Which done, thats done which is my sole delight, Which done, thats done that I can never quite.