Wretch that I am!
Nothing is more true, and he says very appropriately,
What, are you sane, who at this rate lament?
He seems even to his friends to be out of his senses: then how tragical he becomes!
Thy aid, divine Apollo, I implore,
And thine, dread ruler of the wat’ry store!
Oh! all ye winds, assist me!
He thinks that the whole world ought to apply itself to help his love: he excludes Venus alone, as unkind to him.
Thy aid, O Venus, why should I invoke?
He thinks Venus too much employed in her own lust to have regard to anything else, as if he himself had not said and committed these shameful things from lust.