Let those who are in favor with their stars
Of public honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars,
Unlooked for joy in that I honour most.
Great princes' favorites their fair leaves spread,
But as the mar igold at the sun's eye,
And in themselves their pride lies burièd,
For at a frown they in their glory die.
The painful warrior famousèd for fight,
After a thousand victories once foiled,
Is from the book of honour razèd quite,
And all the rest forgot for wich he toiled.
Then happy I that love and am belovèd
Where I may not remove, nor be removèd.
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