He captive like, thy mercy came to prove
And thou divorc’d, was ravish’d with a toy:
He swore faire Helen was his dearest dove
And thou a Paris swore for to enjoy:
Mourne may the ghosts, of sometimes stately Troy.
And curse that day, thou saw the Phirigian coast:
Thy lecherous lust, did Priams pride destroy,
And many thousands, for thy sake were lost.
Was’t nature, fortune, fancy, beauty, birth,
That cros’d thee so, to be a crosse on earth.