The seventh Sonnet.
[Whose senses in so evill comfort their stepdame Nature laies]
[1]
Whose senses in so evill comfort their stepdame Nature laies,
That ravishing delight in them most sweete tunes doth not raise,
Or if they doe delight therein yet are so cloid with wit,
As with sententious lips to set a little vaine on it:
O let them hear these sacred tunes, & learn in wonders scholes,
To be (in things past boūds of wit) fooles, if they be not fooles.
[2]
Who have so leaden eyes, as not to see sweete Beauties showe:
Or seeing, have so wooden wits as not that worth to knowe;
Or knowing, have so muddie mindes, as not to be in love;
Or loving, have so frothie hearts, as easie thence to move:
O, let them see these heavenly beames, and in faire letters reed
A lesson, fit both sight and skill, Love & firme Love to breed.
3
Hear then, but then with wonder hear; see, but admiring see;
No mortal gifts, no earthly frutes now here discerned bee:
See, doo you see this face: a face, nay image of the skyes,
Of which, the two life-giving lights are figured in her eyes:
Heare you this soule-invading voyce, & count it but a voyce,
The verie essence of their tunes, when Angels doo rejoyce.
