True it is that increase is earth's old rule,
That mankind thriveth not but by conception;
Thinkst thou though, be not so fond and unschooled,
Any rule is deemed to have an exception.
Thy grace pitifully wanteth the means,
She aboundeth in years that which thou lack'st;
Pitieth the very babe's future's dreams,
Roughly denied for years and decades next.
The sands have not flown back and forth so much
Desperate measures are not in your hands;
Desperate ills must be addressed as such,
And Scripture breaks not thus but merely bends.
Thou deserv'st much worthier babies;
If not mine, then a worthier lady's.