more crazy than ever. The air of the court has given a new charm to
her extravagance, and her folly grows and increases every day.

VISC. Yes; but you do not take into consideration that what amuses you
drives me to despair; and that one cannot dissimulate long when one is
under the sway of love as true as that which I feel for you. It is
cruel to think, dear Julia, that this amusement of yours should
deprive me of the few moments during which I could speak to you of my
love, and last night I wrote on the subject some verses that I cannot
help repeating to you, so true is it that the mania of reciting one's
verses is inseparable from the title of a poet:

"Iris, too long thou keepst on torture's rack
One who obeys thy laws, yet whisp'ring chides
In that thou bidst me boast a joy I lack,
And hush the sorrow that my bosom hides.

Must thy dear eyes, to which I yield my arms,
From my sad sighs draw wanton pleasure still?
Is't not enough to suffer for thy charms
That I must grieve at thy capricious will?

This double martyrdom a pain affords
Too keen to bear at once; thy deeds, thy words,
Work on my wasting heart a cruel doom,

Love bids it burn; constraint its life doth chill.
If pity soften not thy wayward will,
Love, feigned and real, will lead me to the tomb."