X
Of his lady's going over early to bed, so depriving him too soon of her sight
Fair sun, if you would have me praise your light,
When night approacheth wherefore do you fly?
Time is so short, beauties so many be,
As I have need to see them day and night,
That by continual view my verses might
Tell all the beams of your divinity;
Which praise to you and joy should be to me,
You living by my verse, I by your sight;
I by your sight, and not you by my verse,
Need mortal skill immortal praise rehearse?
No, no, though eyes were blind, and verse were dumb,
Your beauty should be seen and your fame known;
For by the wind which from my sighs do come,
Your praises round about the world are blown.
THE THIRD DECADE
I
Complaint of his lady's sickness
Uncivil sickness, hast thou no regard,
But dost presume my dearest to molest,
And without leave dar'st enter in that breast
Whereto sweet love approach yet never dared?
Spare thou her health, which my life hath not spared;
Too bitter such revenge of my unrest!
Although with wrongs my thought she hath opprest,
My wrongs seek not revenge, they crave reward
Cease, sickness, cease in her then to remain;
And come and welcome, harbour thou in me
Whom love long since hath taught to suffer in!
So she which hath so oft my pain increased,
O God, that I might so revengèd be,
By my poor pain might have her pain released!