When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my sandwiched state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself, and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more lease in hope,
Not like him who fought, nor like him with friends non,
Desiring this man's freedom, and that man's friendship,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts my self almost despising,
Haply I think on thee all, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate;
   For thy fights left me remembering my harsh past. 
   That then I refuse to change my state with reality.