You know the Prince and know his noble nature, I thinck you know his powre, too: of all your wisdomes This will not show the least nor prove the meanest In good mens eyes, I thinck, in all that know ye, To seeke his love: gentle and faire demeanours Wyn more then blowes and soften stubborne angers.

Yet better were attonce to let me die, And shew the last ensample of your pride, Then to torment me thus with cruelty, To prove your powre, which I too wel have tride.

But if it be your pleasure and proud will To shew the powre of your imperious eyes, Then not on him that never thought you ill, But bend your force against your enemyes.

So weake my powres, so sore my wounds, appear, That wonder is how I should live a iot, Seeing my hart through-launced every where With thousand arrowes which your eies have shot.

The which my selfe against my selfe doe make, Whilest my weak powres of passions warreid arre, No skill can stint, nor reason can aslake.