There Is An Italian Proverb

Kings Were Wont To Honour Philosophers, But If I Had Such I Would Honour Them As Angels That Should Have Such Piety In Them That They Would Not Seek Where They Are The Second To Be The First, And Where The Third To Be The Second And So Forth.

Though The Sex To Which I Belong Is Considered Weak You Will Nevertheless Find Me A Rock That Bends To No Wind.

It Is A Natural Virtue Incident To Our Sex To Be Pitiful Of Those That Are Afflicted.

I Do Not Choose That My Grave Should Be Dug While I Am Still Alive.

I Grieve And Dare Not Show My Discontent, I Love And Yet Am Forced To Seem To Hate, I Do, Yet Dare Not Say I Ever Meant, I Seem Stark Mute But Inwardly Do Prate. I Am And Not, I Freeze And Yet Am Burned, Since From Myself Another Self I Turned. My Care Is Like My Shadow In The Sun, Follows Me Flying, Flies When I Pursue It, Stands And Lies By Me, Doth What I Have Done.