Fidessa more chaste then kinde. By B. Griffin |
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SONNET. XLI.
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 | Fidessa |  |
SONNET. XLI.
[The prison I am in is thy faire face]
The prison I am in is thy faire face,Wherein my libertie in chained lyes:
My thoughts the bolts that hold me in the place,
My foode the pleasing lookes of thy faire eyes.
Deepe is the prison where I lye inclosed,
Strong are the bolts that in this cell containes me:
Sharpe is the foode necessitie imposed,
When hunger makes me feed on that which paines me.
Yet doe I loue, imbrace, and follow fast,
That holds, that keepes, that discontents me most:
And list not breake, vnlock, or seeke to waste
The place, the bolts, the foode (though I be lost.)
Better in prison euer to remaine,
Then being out to suffer greater paine.
| Fidessa | |