The curious wits, seeing dull pensiveness br Bewray itself in my long-settl'd eyes, br Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise, br With idle pains and missing aim do guess. br Some, that know how my spring I did address, br Deem that my Muse some fruit of knowledge plies; br Others, because the prince my service tries, br Think that I think state errors to redress; br But harder judges judge ambition's rage-- br Scourge of itself, still climbing slipp'ry place-- br Holds my young brain captiv'd in golden cage. br O fool or over-wise! alas, the race br Of all my thoughts hath neither stop nor start br But only Stella's eyes and Stella's heart.