LOve, being blind, hath wrought me damage sore; Thou, blind in this my loving, evil wast; Nor would I see the snare, being blind far more, Wherein myself, I did entangle fast. Yet hath this blindness harm done unto none But unto Beauty's buzzard, me alone. When blinded Boy did catch my harmless heart; Thou didst not see the net so intricate Which bound me (being blind, blind as Thou art!) To be a thrall in this most wretched state. So that, alone to work my misery, Love blind is; blind wert Thou; and blinder, I.
X.
IF, Laura, thou dost turn 'gainst me in hate; Then me, such busses sweet why dost thou give? Why check'st thou not the Cheeks which give the mate? The vital cause whereby I breathe and live? Perhaps it is, because through too much joy. As in sweet swound [swoon], I might away depart: If so thou do, and think me so to 'noy; Kiss hardly! and with kissing, breed my smart! Content am I to lose this life of mine; Whilst I do kiss that lovely lip of thine.
XI.