Chè ’l poco è troppo a chi ben serve e stenta.
“O blessed spirits, who in world’s release
Are recompensed for tears it could not pay,
Tell me if Love wage war on you alway,
Or Death hath yonder made his quarrel cease?”
“Our everlasting peace,
All time beyond, here loveth unacquaint
With mortal lovers’ sorrow and complaint.”
“Then sad it is for me
To linger, as you see,