Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go Make bold her bashful years with your experience; Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys And when this arm of mine hath chastised The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with triumphant garlands will I come And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed; To whom I will retail my conquest won, And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar.