Savour

But savour not this recovered honour
It is withered in the boastful violence
Pierce me and shall I not also bleed
And so much the easier than thou
And see, he does not just prick me a little
He wounds deep this foolish pride
Dashes to the floor false accusation
That would make of him a eunuch
Unable to indict all beauty by day
Or discharge the unlovely during night