BRIDEGROOME.
Sonet. XXIIII.
1
I am thy Gard'ner, Thou my fruitfull Vine,
Whose rip'ned clusters swell with richest Wine;
The Vines of Solomon were not so faire,
His Grapes were not so pretious, as thine are;
His Vines were subject to the vulgar will
Of hired hands, and mercinary skill;
Corrupted Carles were merry with his Vines,
And at a price return'd their barter'd wines.
2
Bvt mine's a Vineyard, which no ruder hand
Shall touch, subjected to my sole command;
My selfe with this laborious arme, will dresse it,
My presence with a busie eye shall blesse it;
O Princely Solomon, thy thriving Vine
Is not so faire, so bountifull as mine;
Thy greedy sharers claime an earned hire,
But mine's reseru'd, and to my selfe entire.
3
O thou, that dwellest
where th'eternall fame
Of my renowne so glorifies my name,
Lustrious Bride, in whose celestiall tongue,
Are sacred Spels t'enchant the ruder throng;
O let thy lips, like a perpetuall story;
Divulge my graces, and declare my glory;
Direct those hearts, that errour leads astray,
Dissolve the
Waxe, but make obdure the
Clay.
