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The Works of Michael Drayton

Edited by J. William Hebel

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332

43

[Why should your faire Eyes with such sov'raigne grace]

Why should your faire Eyes with such sov'raigne grace
Disperse their Rayes on ev'ry vulgar Spirit,
Whilst I in darkenesse, in the selfe-same place,
Get not one glance, to recompence my Merit?
So doth the Plow-man gaze the wand'ring Starre,
And onely rest contented with the Light,
That never learn'd what Constellations are,
Beyond the bent of his unknowing Sight.
O, why should Beautie (Custome to obey)
To their grosse Sense apply her selfe so ill!
Would God I were as ignorant as they,
When I am made unhappy by my skill;
Onely compell'd on this poore good to boast,
Heav'ns are not kind to them, that know them most.