Of virtuous honour to eternal Fate!
I'll beat the winds, and make the tides keep back!
Reign in the sea, that lovers have no wrack!
"Yes, tell the Earth, 'It is a murderer!
Hath slain Vitullia!' O Vitullia's dead!
I'll count blind Cupid for a conjurer,
And with wild horses will I rend his head!
I, with a pickaxe, will pluck out his brains!
Laugh at this boy! ease lovers of much pains!