Despised of her I love, I more adore her!
I'll ne'er write ought, but of her virtue's story!
Beauty unblasted is the eye's rich storer,
If I should die, O who would ring love's knell?"
Faint not, Daiphantus! Wise men love not so well!
"Like heaven's artist, the astronomer,
Gazing on stars, oft to the earth doth fall:
So I, Daiphantus, now Lover's Harbinger,
Am quite condemned to Love's funeral!
Who falls by women, by them oft doth rise;