SONNET X.
A painter drew the image of the boy, Swift Love, with wings, all naked, and yet blind; With bow and arrows bent for to destroy. I blamed his skill; and fault I thus did find: "A needless task I see thy cunning take: Misled by love, thy fancy thee betrayed. Love is no boy, nor blind, as men him make; Nor weapons wears, whereof to be afraid: But if thou Love wilt paint with greatest skill; A Love, a Maid, a goddess, and a Queen! Wonder and view at Licia's picture still! For other Love, the World hath never seen. For She alone, all hope, all comfort, gives: Men's hearts, souls all, led by her favour, live."
SONNET XI.
IN Ida Vale three Queens, the Shepherd saw; Queens of esteem, divine, they were all three. A sight of worth, but I a wonder show: Their virtues all in one alone to be. Licia the Fair surpassing Venus's pride, (The matchless Queen, commander of the gods, When, drawn with doves, she in her pomp doth ride) Hath far more beauty and more grace by odds: Juno, Jove's wife, unmeet to make compare; I grant a goddess, but not half so mild: Minerva wise, a virtue; but not rare. Yet these are mean, if that my Love but smiled. She them surpasseth, when their prides are full, As far as they surpass the meanest trull.