Win. Dear majesty, beloved above all kings,
Let not your frown unpay again the service
Your smile even now rewarded. 'Tis too much,
Howe'er we have endured, to ask our silence
While Kent doth rob thee of a fairer queen
Than ever made a court seem gaudy poor
By her rich self. Must we stand humbly back,
That he may please his bosom with her beauty,
And bury in his lust what forth should shine
Thine and a happy England's constant sun?