First Sonnet.
[Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth]
[1]
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth?
To you, to you all song of praise is due,
Onely in you my song begins and endeth.
2
Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure,
Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure:
To you, to you al song of praise be due,
Onely for you the heavens forget all measure.
3
Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth,
Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth:
To you, to you all song of praise is due,
Onely by you Cupid his crowne maintaineth.
4
Who hath the feet whose steps al sweetnes planteth,
Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth:
To you, to you all song of praise be due,
Onely to you her scepter Venus granteth.
5
Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nurish,
Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish:
To you, to you al song of praise be due,
Onely through you the tree of life doth flourish.
6
Who hath the hand which without stroke subdueth
Who long hid beautie with encrease reneueth:
To you, to you al song of praise is due,
Onely at you al envie hopelesse endeth.
7
Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth,
Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth:
To you, to you al song of praise is due,
Onely of you the flattrer never lieth.
8
Who hath the voyce which soule from senses sunders,
Whose force but yours the bolt of beautie thunders?
To you, to you al song of praise is due,
Onely with you no miracles are wonders.
9
Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth,
Which now my breast orechargd with musicke lendeth?
To you, to you al song of praise is due,
Onely in you my song begins and endeth.
