Folly loves the martyrdom of fame.
The drying up a single tear has more, of honest fame, than shedding seas of gore.
Here's a sigh to those who love me,And a smile to those who hate;And, whatever sky's above me,Here's a heart for every fate.
When we two parted In silence and tears, Half broken-hearted, To sever for years.
I see before me the gladiator lie.
He who is only just is cruel; who Upon the earth would live were all judged justly?