Oh Fortune, thy wresting wavering
Hath fraught with cares my troubled wit,
Whose witness this present prison
Could bear, where once was joy's loan quit.
Thou causedst the guilty to be
From bands where innocents were inclosed,
And caused the guiltless to be reserved,
And freed those that death had well deserved.
But all herein can be nothing wrought,
So God send to my foes all they have thought.
