If black doom by desert should go,
Then, Lord; my due desert is death;
Which robs from souls immortal joy,
And from their bodies mortal breath.

But in so great a Saviour,
Can e'er so base a worm's annoy
Add any glory to thy power,
Or any gladdness to thy joy?

Thou justly mayst me doom to death,
And everlasting flames of fire;
But on a wretch to pour thy wrath
Can ever sure be worth thine ire.

Since Jesus the atonement was,
Let tender mercy me release;
Let him be umpire of my cause,

Adieu , fond love; farewell, you wanton powers,
I am free again;
Thou dull disease of blood, and idle hours,
Bewitching pain,
Fly to the fools that sigh away their time.
My nobler love to heaven doth climb,
And there behold beauty still young
That time can ne'er corrupt nor death destroy;
Immortal sweetness by fair angels sung,
And honoured by eternity and joy.
There lives my love, thither my hopes aspire;
Fond love declines, this heavenly grows higher.

Sonet 1.

Much sorrowe in it selfe my loue doth move
More my dispayre to loue a hopelesse blisse
My follie most to loue where sure to misse
O helpe me but this last griefe to remoue.

All payne if yow command it, ioy doth proue
And wisdome to seeke ioy; then say but this
Because my pleasure in thy torment is
I doe command thee withoute hope to loue.

So when this thought my sorrowes shall augment
That myne owne follie did procure my payne
Then shall I say to giue my selfe content

Sonet 1.

Now now I loue indeed and suffer more
In one day now then I did in a yeare
Great flames they be which but small sparkles were
And wounded now I was but prickt before.

No mervayle then though more then heertofore
I weepe and sigh; how can great wounds be there
Where moysture runs not oute and euer where
The fire is great of smoke there must be store.

My heart was hetherto but like green wood
Which must be dry'd before it will burne bright
My former loue seru'd but my heart to drye

Sonet 5.

A friend of myne moaning my helplesse loue
Hoping by killing hope my loue to slay
Let not (quoth he) thy hope thy heart betray
Impossible it is her heart to move.

But sith resolued loue cannot remove
As longe as thy devine perfections stay
Thy godhead then he sought to take away
Deare seeke revenge and him a lyer proue.

Gods only doe impossibilityes
Impossible sayth he thy grace to gayne
Shew then the power of thy devinityes
By graunting me thy favoure to obtayne

Sonet 1.

My Ladies presence makes the roses red
Because to see her lips they blush for shame
The lilies leaues for envy pale became
And her white hands in them this envy bred

The marygold abroad the leaues did spread
Because the suns and her power is the same
The violet of purple coloure came
Dy'd with the bloud she made my heart to shed.

In briefe all flowers from her theyre vertue take
From her sweet breath theyre sweet smells doe proceed
The liuing heate which her eybeames doe make

Sonet 7.

Blame not my hearte for flying vp so high
Sith thow art cause that it this flight begun
For earthlye vapoures drawne vp by the sun
Comets become and night-suns in the skie.

My humble hearte so with thy heauenly eye
Drawen vp alofte all low desires doth shun
Rayse thow me vp as thow my heart hast done
So during night in heauen remayne may I.

Blame not I say againe my high desire
Sith of vs both the cause thereof depends
In thee doth shine in me doth burne a fire

Sonet 6.

It may be Loue doth not my death pretend
Although he shutes at me but thinkes it fitte
Thus to bewitch thee for my benefitte
Causing thy will to my wish condescend.

For witches which some murder doe intend
Doe make a picture and doe shute at it
And in that place where they the picture hitt
The partyes selfe doth languish to his end
So Loue to weake by force thy hearte to taynt
Within my hearte thy heauenly shape doth paynte.

Sonet 5.

When youre perfections to my thoughts appeare
They say amonge themselues O happie wee
Which ever shall so rare an obiect see
But happie hearte if thoughts lesse happie were.

For theyre delights haue cost my heart full deare
In whome of loue a thowsand causes be
And each cause breeds a thowsand loues in me
And each loue more then thowsand hearts can beare.

How can my hearte so many loues then hold
Which yet by heapes encrease from day to day
But like a ship that's overcharg'd with gold

Sonet 3.

Thyne eye the glasse where I behold my hearte
Myne eye the windowe through the which thyne eye
May see my hearte and there thy selfe espie
In bloudie coloures how thow paynted art

Thyne eye the pyle is of a murdering darte
Myne eye the sight thow takst thy levell by
To hitt my hearte and neuer shut'st awrye
Myne eye thus helpes thyne eye to worke my smarte

Thyne eye a fire is both in heate and light
Myne eye of teares a river doth become
O that the water of myne eye had might