So earnestly, that God, who has ordain’d
That we should ask at once for all and nothing
Of him who best knows what is best for us,
Denied me what I wrongly coveted.
Well, let me turn the leaf on which are written
The troubles of those ill-assorted years,
And to my tale. I had a younger sister,
Whom to console me in my wretched home,
I took to live with me—of whose fair youth
A gentleman enamour’d—Oh, my liege,