O kingly ielousie which canst admitte
No thought of com-peeres in thine high desier!
Loues bastard daughter for true-loues vnfitte
Scaulding mens harts, with force of secret fier:
Thou poysoned cancour of much-bewteous loue,
Fostred of enuies pappes with wrathfull rage,
Thou which doest still thine owne distruction moue
With eagles eyes, which secret watch doth wage:
With Peacockes feete, to steale in vnawares:
With prognes winges to false suspect which flyes
Which vertues hold in durance rashly dares,
Prouoker, and maintayner of vaine lyes,
Who (with rich vertues, and faire loue possest)
Causelesse hast all to thine harts hell adrest.