See how the stubborne damzell doth deprave
my simple meaning with disdaynfull scorne:
and by the bay which I unto her gave,
accoumpts my selfe her captive quite forlorne.
The bay (quoth she) is of the victours borne,
yielded them by the vanquisht as theyr meeds,
and they therewith doe poetes heads adorne,
to sing the glory of their famous deedes.
But sith she will the conquest challeng needs,
let her accept me as her faithfull thrall,
that her great triumph which my sk** exceeds,
I may in trump of fame blaze over all.
Then would I decke her head with glorious bayes,
and fill the world with her victorious prayse.