University of Virginia Library


357

XVII. SONETT.

O, in my rage I saide, once as me thoght,
O loue, o hope, o danger & dispaire,
Curst be the tyme that I to loue was broght!
for ere that tyme I knew no kynde of care.
but when againe I se hir bewtyes rare
for whom so longe I languisht haue in pyne,
hir rosy lipps, hir heavenly glistring hair,
hir twincklinge starrs, that, Cupid, once was thyne,
hir comly grace & vertues most devyne,
As, lo, she is a mirrour of hir age,
So yeild I hir this constant hart of myne,
Thoug[h]e otherwyse I said, lo, in my rage:
My hart to you my hart I wholly giue;
Yours would I haue or ells to longe I liue.
Finis.