Sonnet LIII
THe Panther knowing that his spotted hyde, Doth please all beasts but that his looks the[m] fray: Within a bush his dreadfull head doth hide, To let them gaze whylest he on them may
Poem 9
LOe where she comes along with portly pace, Lyke Phoebe from her chamber of the East, Arysing forth to run her mighty race, Clad all in white, that seemes a virgin best. So well
Sonnet LIIII
OF this worlds Theatre in which we stay, My loue lyke the Spectator ydly sits Beholding me that all the pageants play, Disguysing diuersly my troubled wits. Sometimes I ioy when glad occasion sits,
Sonnet XXXII
The paynefull smith with force of feruent heat, The hardest yron soone doth mollify: That with his heauy sledge he can it beat, And fashion to what he it list apply. Yet cannot all
Sonnet LVII
SWeet warriour when shall I haue peace with you? High time it is, this warre now ended were: Which I no lenger can endure to sue, Ne your incessant battry more to beare: So
Sonnet VII
Fayre eyes, the myrrour of my mazed hart, What wondrous vertue is contaynd in you The which both lyfe and death forth fro[m] you dart Into the obiect of your mighty view? For when
Poem 16
AH when will this long vveary day haue end, And lende me leaue to come vnto my loue? Hovv slovvly do the houres theyr numbers spend? How slowly does sad Time his feathers moue?
Sonnet XI
DAyly when I do seeke and sew for peace, And hostages doe offer for my truth: She cruell warriour doth her selfe addresse, To battell, and the weary war renew’th. Ne wilbe moou’d with
Poem 12
OPen the temple gates vnto my loue, Open them wide that she may enter in, And all the postes adorne as doth behoue, And all the pillours deck with girlands trim, For to recyue
Sonnet VIII
MOre then most faire, full of the liuing fire, Kindled aboue vnto the maker neere: No eies buy ioyes, in which al powers conspire, That to the world naught else be counted deare. Thrugh
Sonnet XXXI
Ah why hath nature to so hard a hart, Giuen so goodly giftes of beauties grace? Whose pryde depraues each other better part, And all those pretious ornaments deface. Sith to all other beastes
Sonnet LIX
THrise happie she, that is so well assured Vnto her selfe and setled so in hart: That nether will for better be allured, Ne feard with worse to any chaunce to start, But like
Poem 23
And ye high heauens, the temple of the gods, In which a thousand torches flaming bright Doe burne, that to vs wretched earthly clods: In dreadful darknesse lend desired light; And all ye powers
Poem 17
Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast, Enough is it, that all the day was youres: Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast: Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures. Now
Sonnet LXXXVI
VEnemous toung tipt with vile adders sting, Of that selfe kynd with which the Furies tell Theyr snaky heads doe combe, from which a spring Of poysoned words and spitefull speeches well. Let all