L.
STELLA! The fulness of my thoughts of thee
Cannot be stayed within my panting breast;
But they do swell and struggle forth of me
Till that in words, thy figure be exprest.
And yet as soon as they so formèd be,
According to my lord LOVE'S own behest:
With sad eyes, I their weak proportion see,
To portrait that which in this world is best.
So that I cannot choose but write my mind;
And cannot choose but put out what I write;
While these poor babes their death in birth do find.
And now my pen, these lines had dashed quite,
But that they stopt his fury from the same;
Because their forefront bare sweet STELLA'S name.
LI.
Pardon mine ears! both I and they do pray,
So may your tongue still fluently proceed
To them, that do such entertainment need:
So may you still have somewhat new to say.
On silly me do not the burden lay
Of all the grave conceits, your brain doth breed:
But find some HERCULES to bear (instead
Of ATLAS tired) your wisdom's heavenly sway.
For me, while you discourse of courtly tides;
Of cunning fishers in most troubled streams;
Of straying ways, when valiant error guides:
Meanwhile, my heart confers with STELLA'S beams,
And is even irkt that so sweet comedy
By such unsuited speech, should hindered be.
