Because of them, my little lordling, you would triumph over time. My head is a huge empty chamber echoing with your name, smelling of your perfume, with no other furniture I sit, alone. Oh my lady sorceress, you've taken all my powers. We must all build our own monument. Mine is safer than an heir.
Verses are free from the Spanish sickness.
Oh thank you, Master. Here we shall be safe from all ladies. There are doctors who have looked through a glass and counted the stars. There are clowns to make a man laugh, and poets, so many of us poets to make you weep. It's not with paper and pens we work, nor a locked room either.