Nay! O, the gods do know my mind, I rather would require
To sue, to serve, to crouch, to kneel, to crave for my desire.
But out, ye gods! ye bend your brows, and frown to see me fare;
Ye do not force my fickle fate, ye do not weigh my care.
Unrighteous and unequal gods, unjust and eke unsure,
Woe worth the time ye made me live to see this hapless hour!
Did Iphis hang himself for love of lady not so fair?
Or else did Jove the cloudy mists bend down from lightsome air?
Or as the poets mention make of Inach’s daughter meek,
For love did he, too, make a cow, whom Inach long did seek?