"LOve this fair Lass!" said Love once unto me. I loved her. "Love her now," saith he, "no more!" When thousand darts within my breast there be; And if I love her, he me threateneth sore. He saith, "Himself is fallen in love with her; And that himself, 'fore others, he'll prefer!" His sense is this. He, in her beauteous eyes, Hath found such Amours as ne'er like were seen: But thinks he, this shall serve, in cunning wise, To make me leave? he cozening me so clean? In spite of him, I'll love! sith heart doth 'gree, With Love in love as rival for to be.
XXVIII.
MY Mistress writing, as her hand did shake, The pen did dash, which on her gown did spurt: One drop, more higher than the rest did take; And to presume to touch her breast it durst. Upon her dainty bosom it did light: Wherewith she blushed, in show like damask rose. Presumptuous black! how dar'dst thou touch that white, Wherein a World of gladsome pleasure grows? Yet, spite of envy, happed it for the best: To the white, more grace; more beauty, 'twas to th' breast.
XXIX.
NOne dares now look more on my Laura's face, So dangerous is her beauty to behold: For he no sooner gives to her the gaze; But straight his heart, She takes from him so bold. Such virtue 's locked within those ebon eyes; Where, dallying with Delight, Dan Cupid lies. So sweetly rolleth She that radiant sphere, As She, from whom She lists, robs suddenly: So as to look on her, each one doth fear; And yet to look on her, spare will not I! For though I lose my Heart, and him disease. I like shall my Desire; and her I'll please.