No date prefixed directs me in the starry rubric set.
Fame is the spur that the clear spirit doth raise. That last infirmity of noble mind. To scorn delights, and live laborious days.
Our cure, to be no more; sad cure!
The strongest and the fiercest spirit That fought in heaven, now fiercer by despair.
Beauty stands In the admiration only of weak minds Led captive.
So dear I love him, that with him, all deaths I could endure, without him, live no life.