Salicio

If, my dear friend, you spoke with one who ne'er Had felt the dangerous flame, the restless care, The bitter-sweets of love which thus you feel, Wisdom it were the sequel to conceal: But if I share the sorrows of thy breast, Why as a stranger hide from me the rest? Think'st thou that I on my part do not prove This living death, this agony of love? If skilled experience should not wholly end Thy heavy grief, the pity of a friend, Himself sore wounded by the marksman's dart, Will fail not to at least assuage the smart. Since, then, I candidly disclose my share In such concerns (and even yet I bear Marks of the arrow), it is quite unkind To be so shy: whilst thou hast life, thy mind Should cherish hope; I may, as Love's high priest, Counsel some cure, or weep with thee at least. No harm can come from subjecting thine ear To the kind counsels of a friend sincere.