Fine madam Would-Be, wherefore should you fear, br That love to make so well, a child to bear? br The world reputes you barren: but I know br Your 'pothecary, and his drug says no. br Is it the pain affrights? That's soon forgot. br Or your complexion's loss? you have a pot, br That can restore that. Will it hurt your feature? br To make amends, you are thought a wholesome creature. br What should the cause be? Oh, you live at court; br And there's both loss of time, and loss of sport, br In a great belly: Write then on thy womb, br 'Of the not born, yet buried, here's the tomb.