Sonnet X
VNrighteous Lord of loue what law is this, That me thou makest thus tormented be: The whiles she lordeth in licentious blisse Of her freewill, scorning both thee and me. See how the Tyrannesse
Sonnet LXIII
AFter long stormes and tempests sad assay, Which hardly I endured heretofore: In dread of death and daungerous dismay, With which my silly barke was tossed sore. I doe at length descry the happy
Sonnet LXXIX
MEn call you fayre, and you doe credit it, For that your selfe ye dayly such doe see: But the trew fayre, that is the gentle wit, And vertuous mind is much more praysd
Sonnet LXXIII
BEing my selfe captyued here in care, My hart, whom none with seruile bands can tye: But the fayre tresses of your golden hayre, Breaking his prison forth to you doth fly. Lyke as
Sonnet LXXX
AFter so long a race as I haue run Through Faery land, which those six books co[m]pile Giue leaue to rest me being halfe fordonne, And gather to my selfe new breath awhile. Then
Sonnet XXXV
MY hungry eyes through greedy couetize, Still to behold the obiect of their paine: With no contentment can themselues suffize, But hauing pine and hauing not complaine. For lacking it they cannot lyfe sustayne,
Sonnet XXV
HOw long shall this lyke dying lyfe endure, And know no end of her owne mysery: But wast and weare away in termes vnsure, Twixt feare and hope depending doubtfully. Yet better were attonce
The Faerie Queene, Book VI, Canto X
THE SIXTE BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QUEENE Contayning THE LEGEND OF S. CALIDORE OR OF COURTESIECANTO X Calidore sees the Graces daunce, To Colins melody: The whiles his Pastorell is led, Into captivity.
Amoretti LXXIX: Men Call you Fair
Men call you fair, and you do credit it, For that your self ye daily such do see: But the true fair, that is the gentle wit, And vertuous mind, is much more prais’d
Sonnet LXIIII
COmming to kisse her lyps, (such grace I found) Me seemd I smelt a gardin of sweet flowres: That dainty odours from them threw around For damzels fit to decke their louers bowres. Her
Poem 21
WHo is the same, which at my window peepes? Or whose is that faire face, that shines so bright, Is it not Cinthia, she that neuer sleepes, But walkes about high heauen al the
Poem 7
NOw is my loue all ready forth to come, Let all the virgins therefore well awayt, And ye fresh boyes that tend vpon her groome Prepare your selues; for he is comming strayt. Set
Poem 95
VNto his mother straight he weeping came, And of his griefe complayned: Who could not chose but laugh at his fond game, Though sad to see him pained. Think now (quod she) my sonne
Poem 2
EArly before the worlds light giuing lampe, His golden beame vpon the hils doth spred, Hauing disperst the nights vnchearefull dampe, Doe ye awake and with fresh lusty hed, Go to the bowre of
Poem 93
TO whom his mother closely smiling sayd, Twixt earnest and twixt game: See thou thy selfe likewise art lyttle made, If thou regard the same. And yet thou suffrest neyther gods in sky, Nor