Sonnet XIX.
“Ah no; nor I my selfe: tho’ my pure love
(Sweete Ganymede) to thee hath still been pure,
And ev’n till my last gaspe shall aie endure,
Could ever thy obdurate beuty move:
Then cease, oh goddesse sonne (for sure thou art
A Goddesse sonne that can resist desire),
Cease thy hard heart, and entertain love’s fire
Within thy sacred breast: by Nature’s art.
And as I love thee more than any Creature