'Sir,' quoth Bellama, 'wealth is not my aim,
Nor does the gales of honour heave my soul,
I higher prize an action than a name,
1140And value more a pamphlet than a roll.
Where I with comeliness find virtue mixed,
My love, eyes, thoughts, are on that object fixed.
I speak not much of love, lest you presume;
And speak a little, lest you should despair.
I would not have my words your hopes deplume,
Nor feather them to reach the highest air.