Fool that I was, upon my eagle's wings I bore this wren, till I was tired with soaring, and now he mounts above me.

Let cheerfulness on happy fortune wait.

I am devilishly afraid, that's certain; but ... I'll sing, that I may seem valiant.

So over violent, or over civil that every man with him was God or Devil.

He wants worth who dares not praise a foe.

Content with poverty, my soul I arm; And virtue, though in rags, will keep me warm.

Thou tyrant, tyrant Jealousy, Thou tyrant of the mind!