Astrophel and Stella XXIII

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