Astrophel and Stella - Sonnet LXIV
No more, my deare, no more these counsels trie; O giue my passions leaue to run their race; Let Fortune lay on me her worst disgrace; Let folke orecharg'd with braine against me crie; Let clouds bedimme my face, breake in mine eye; Let me no steps but of lost labour trace; Let all the earth with scorne recount my case, But do not will me from my loue to flie. I do not enuie Aristotless wit, Nor do aspire to Csars bleeding fame; Nor ought do care though some aboue me sit; Nor hope, nor wish another course to frame But that which once may win thy cruell hart: Thou art my wit, and thou my vertue art.
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"No more, my deare, no more these counsels trie;..."
Exploring the themes of classic, Philip Sidney (Sir) delivers a powerful performance in "Astrophel and Stella - Sonnet LXIV"... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...