Oh, God! I have an ill-divining soul!
Here I and sorrows sit; Here is my throne, bid kings come bow to it.
There is no sure foundation set on blood, No certain life achieved by others' death.
I am wealthy in my friends.
'Tis brief, my lord...as woman's love.
His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles; his love sincere, his thoughts immaculate; his tears pure messengers sent from his heart; his heart as far from fraud, as heaven from earth