You make a semblance of loving St.
Augustine and his works; but, in your heart, you love the poets and the philosophers.

Your Laura is a phantom created by your imagination for the exercise of your poetry.

Your verse, your love, your sighs, are all a fiction; or, if there is anything real in your passion, it is not for the lady Laura, but for the laurel--_that is_, the crown of poets.

I have been your dupe for some time, and, whilst you showed a strong desire to visit Rome, I hoped to welcome you there.

But my eyes are now opened to all your rogueries, which nevertheless, will not prevent me from loving you." Petrarch, in his answer to the Bishop,[F] says, "My father, if I love the poets, I only follow, in this respect, the example of St.Augustine.
I take the sainted father himself to witness the sincerity of my attachment to him.