The curious wits seeing dull pensiveness <br />Bewray itself in my long settled eyes, <br />Whence those same fumes of melancholy rise, <br />With idle pains, and missing aim, do guess. <br /> <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 /> <br />But harder judges judge ambition's rage, <br />Scourge of itself, still climbing slipp'ry place, <br />Holds my young brain cativ'd in golden cage. <br /> <br />Oh Fools, 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.<br /><br />Sir Philip Sidney<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xxiii-the-curious-wits/
