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