 | Songes and Sonettes |  |
To his vnkinde loue.
What
rage is this? what furor? of what kinde?
What power, what plage doth wery thus my minde:
Within my bones to rankle is assinde
What poyson pleasant swete?
What power, what plage doth wery thus my minde:
Within my bones to rankle is assinde
What poyson pleasant swete?
Lo, see, myne eyes flow with continuall teares:
The body still away slepelesse it weares:
My foode nothing my fainting strength repayres,
Nor doth my limmes sustain.
The body still away slepelesse it weares:
My foode nothing my fainting strength repayres,
Nor doth my limmes sustain.
In depe wide wound, the dedly stroke doth turne:
To cureles skarre that neuer shall returne.
Go to: triumph: reioyce thy goodly turne:
Thy frend thou doest oppresse.
To cureles skarre that neuer shall returne.
Go to: triumph: reioyce thy goodly turne:
Thy frend thou doest oppresse.
Oppresse thou doest: and hast of him no cure:
Nor yet my plaint no pitie can procure.
Fierce Tigre, fell, hard rock without recure:
Cruell rebell to Loue,
Nor yet my plaint no pitie can procure.
Fierce Tigre, fell, hard rock without recure:
Cruell rebell to Loue,
Once may thou loue, neuer beloued again:
So loue thou styll, and not thy loue obtain:
So wrathfull loue, with spites of iust disdain,
May thret thy cruell hart.
So loue thou styll, and not thy loue obtain:
So wrathfull loue, with spites of iust disdain,
May thret thy cruell hart.
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