I wish sometimes, although a worthless thing, Spurred by ambition, glad for to aspire, Myself a Monarch, or some mighty King: And then my thoughts do wish for to be higher. But when I view what winds the cedars toss, What storms men feel that covet for renown; I blame myself that I have wished my loss: And scorn a Kingdom, though it give a Crown. A' Licia thou, the wonder of my thought, My heart's content, procurer of my bliss; For whom, a Crown I do esteem as nought: And Asia's wealth, too mean to buy a kiss. Kiss me, sweet Love! this favour do for me; Then Crowns and Kingdoms shall I scorn for thee.
SONNET XIII.
INamoured Jove, commanding, did entreat Cupid to wound my Love: which he denied, And swore he could not, for she wanted heat; And would not love, as he full oft had tried. Jove, in a rage, impatient this to hear, Replied with threats, "I'll make you to obey!" Whereat the boy did fly away for fear To Licia's eyes, where safe entrenched he lay. Then Jove, he scorned; and dared him to his face: For now more safe than in the heavens he dwelled; Nor could Jove's wrath do wrong to such a place, Where Grace and Honour have their kingdom held. Thus, in the pride and beauty of her eyes, The silly boy, the greatest god defies.