Cornificius! 'Tis ill with thy Catullus,'Tis ill (by Hercules) distressfully:Iller and iller every day and hour.Whose soul (as smallest boon and easiest)With what of comfort hast thou deign'd console?Wi' thee I'm angered! Dost so prize my love?Yet some consoling utterance had been wellThough sadder 'twere than Simonídean tears.