WHen She was born; She came, with smiling eye, Laughing into the world, a sign of glee. When I was born; to her quite contrary, Wailing I came into the world to see. Then mark this wonder strange! What nature gave; From first to th' last, this fashion kept we have. She in my sad laments doth take great joy: I, through her laughing, die; and languish must, Unless that Love, to save me from this 'noy, Do unto me, unworthy, shew so just As for to change her laughter into pain; And my complaints, into her joy again.
VIII.
IN Love his kingdom great, two Fools there be: My Lady's one; myself the other am. The fond behaviour of both, which to see; Whoso but nicely marks, will say the same. Foolish our thoughts are. Foolish, our desire. Foolish our hearts in Fancy's flame to fry. Foolish to burn in Love's hot scorching fire. But what? Fools are we none. My tongue doth lie. For who most foolish is, and fond, in love; More wiser far than others, oft doth prove.
IX.
NO sooner Laura mine appears to me; But that a dainty dye, or blushing red, In both our faces showeth for to be. But who, alas, doth mine so overspread? O'er-fervent Love doth draw this shadow pure; Like cunning'st Painter, long for to endure. Who painteth hers? Disdain, with pencil hard; Which turneth all my sweetness into sour. So that all my designs are quickly marred; Except Love bind Love, by his awful power, In Faith's firm bands. Too high th' exchange will grow. When love, for hate; and not for like, shall go.