reword

Ecstasy ?
My pulse as yours doth temperately keep time
And makes as healthful music . It is not madness
That I have uttered . Bring me to the test ,
And I the matter will reword , which madness
Would gambol from . Mother , for love of grace ,
Lay not that flattering unction to your soul
That not your trespass but my madness speaks .
It will but skin and film the ulcerous place ,
Whiles rank corruption , mining all within ,
Infects unseen . Confess yourself to heaven ,
Repent what’s past , avoid what is to come ,
And do not spread the compost on the weeds
To make them ranker . Forgive me this my virtue ,
For , in the fatness of these pursy times ,
Virtue itself of vice must pardon beg ,
Yea , curb and woo for leave to do him good .