Of the unfortunate choice of his Valentine.

The pains that all the Furies fell
can cast from Limbo lake,
Each torment of those hellish brains
where crawleth many a snake,
Each mischief that therein doth lie,
each smart that may be found,
Fly from those fiendish claws a while,
with flames break up the ground,
Light here upon this cursed hand,
make here your dwelling place,
And plague the part that durst presume
his master to disgrace;
Which thrust amongst a number of
so many princely names,
And where thy mistress had her place
amongst the chiefest dames,
Durst thus presume to leave her there
and draw a stranger wight,
And by thine own unhappy draught
torment my palled sprite.