Tell me else

Could such inordinate and low desires

Such poor, such bare, such lewd, such mean attempts

Such barren pleasures, rude society

As thou art matched withal, and grafted to

I know not whether God will have it so

For some displeasing service I have done

That, in his secret doom, out of my blood

He’ll breed revengement and a scourge for me;

Accompany the greatness of thy blood

And hold their level with thy princely heart?