SONNET I.
If so it hap the offspring of my care,
These fatal anthems and afflicted songs,
Come to their view, who like to me do fare;
May move them sigh thereat, and moan my wrongs.
But untouched hearts! with unaffected eye,
Approach not to behold my soul's distress!
Clearsighted, you will note what is awry,
Whilst blind ones see no error in my verse.
You blinded souls! whom hap and error lead.
You outcast eaglets dazzled with the sun!
Ah you, and none but you, my sorrow read!
You best can judge the wrong that she hath done:
That she hath done, the motive of my pain;
Who whilst I love, doth kill me with disdain.
SONNET II.
These sorrowing sighs, the smokes of mine annoy,
These tears, which heat of sacred fire distils;
These are the tributes that my faith doth pay;
And these my tyrant's cruel mind fulfil.
I sacrifice my youth and blooming years
At her proud feet; that yet respects no whit
My youth, untimely withered with my tears;
By winter woes, for spring of youth unfit.
She thinks a look may recompense my care,
And so with looks prolongs my long lookt ease:
As short the bliss, so is the comfort rare;
Yet must that bliss my hungry thoughts appease.
Thus she returns my hopes to fruitless ever;
Once let her love indeed or eye me never!
