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 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