I have been wanton and too bold, I fear, To chafe o’ermuch the virgin’s cheek or ear. Beg for my pardon, Julia: he doth win Grace with the gods who’s sorry for his sin. That done, my Julia, dearest Julia, come And go with me to choose my burial room: My fates are ended; when thy Herrick dies, Clasp thou his book, then close thou up his eyes.