Here lyes my hate, Aeneas cursed brat,
The boy wherein false destinie delights,
The heire of fame, the favorite of the fates,
That ugly impe that shall outweare my wrath,
And wrong my deitie with high disgrace:
But I will take another order now,
And race th'eternall Register of time:
Troy shall no more call him her second hope,
Nor Venus triumph in his tender youth:
For here in spight of heaven Ile murder him,
And feede infection with his let out life:
Say Paris, now shall Venus have the ball?
Say vengeance, now shall her Ascanius dye?
O no God wot, I cannot watch my time,
Nor quit good turnes with double fee downe told:
Tut, I am simple,
without
minde to hurt,
And have no gall at all to grieve my foes:
But lustfull Jove and his adulterous child,
Shall finde it written on confusions front,
That onely Juno rules in Rhamnuse towne.