O, thou hast murdred where thou shouldst have kist;
And, where thy shaft was needfull, there it mist.
Thou shouldst have chosen out some homely face,
Where thy ill-favour’d kindnesse might adde grace,
That men might say, How beauteous once was shee!
Or, What a peece, ere shee was seaz’d by thee!
Thou shouldst have wrought on some such ladyes mould
That ne’re did love her lord, nor ever could
Untill shee were deform’d, thy tyranny
Were then within the rules of charity.