 | Parthenophil and Parthenophe |  |
SONNET XCII.
[VVilt thou know wonders by thy bewtie wrought?]
VVilt thou know wonders by thy bewtie wrought?Behold (not seene) an endlesse burning fier
Of fancies fuell, kindled with a thought,
VVithout a flame, yet still inflamed hyer:
No flames appearance, yet continuall smoake
Drawne coole to kindle, breath'd out hot agayne:
Two dy'mondes, which this secret fier prouoke,
Making two christalls with their heate to rayne:
A skinne, where bewteous graces reste at ease:
A tongue, whose sweetnesse mazes all the muses:
And yet, an hart of marble match't with these
A tongue (besides) which sweet replyes refuses.
60
Through thy proude eye, which made thine hart astone.
| Parthenophil and Parthenophe | |