VENUS O, where am I? . . . In earth or heaven? Or in the ocean drenched, or in the fire? Do I delight to die, or life desire? But now I died, and death was lively joy. Thine eyes have murdered this poor heart of mine and these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen, but for thy piteous lips no more had seen. The night of sorrow now is turned to day. Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted long may they kiss each other, for this cure! What hour is this? Or morn or weary even? O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again!"