You hateless sought the safeguard of them all:
Whereto the better cause or badder chance
Did draw, you still inclin’d; preferring oft
The weaker side, sometimes for love, sometimes
For right (as fortune sway’d), your son, yourself.
So pity spar’d what reason sought to spoil,
Till all at length with equal spoil was spent.
Third Chorus. Would gods your mind had felt no such remorse,
And that your foes had no such favour found!
So might your friends have had far friendlier fates,