SONNET

Philip worships me and I abhor him;
Leonard hates me; and for him I yearn;
for him who would desire me not, I'm weeping,
and him who weeps for me I always spurn.

To him who'd shame me most, my soul I offer;
him who'd sacrifice for me, I shame;
I scorn him who'd exalt my reputation,
of him who'd scorn it, I exalt the name.

If I complain that one of them offends me,
the other censures me for some offense;
in either case I suffer in my task,

for each of them wreaks torture on my feelings:
the latter asking for what I don't have;
the former by not having what I ask.