SONNETS.
¶WHen in the Chronicle of wa
sted time,
¶I
see di
scriptions of the faire
st wights,
¶And beautie making beautifull old rime,
1580In prai
se of Ladies dead,
_and louely Knights,
¶Then in the blazon of
sweet beauties be
st,
¶Of hand,
_of foote,
_of lip,
_of eye,
_of brow,
¶I
see their antique Pen would haue expre
st,
¶Euen
such a beauty as you mai
ster now.
1585So all their prai
ses are but prophe
sies
¶Of this our time,
_all you prefiguring,
¶And for they look'd but with deuining eyes,
¶They had not
still enough your worth to
sing :
¶_For we which now behold the
se pre
sent dayes,
1590Haue eyes to wonder,
_but lack toungs to prai
se.
¶NOt mine owne feares,
_nor the prophetick
soule,
¶Of the wide world,
_dreaming on things to come,
¶Can yet the lea
se of my true loue controule,
1595Suppo
sde as forfeit to a confin'd doome.
¶The mortall Moone hath her eclip
se indur'de,
¶And the
sad Augurs mock their owne pre
sage,
¶Incertenties now crowne them-
selues a
ssur'de,
¶And peace proclaimes Oliues of endle
sse age,
1600Now with the drops of this mo
st balmie time,
¶My loue lookes fre
sh,
_and death to me
sub
scribes,
¶Since
spight of him Ile liue in this poore rime,
¶While he in
sults ore dull and
speachle
sse tribes.
¶_And thou in this
shalt finde thy monument,
1605When tyrants cre
sts and tombs of bra
sse are
spent.
¶VVHat's in the braine that Inck may character ,
¶Which hath not figur'd to thee my true
spirit,
¶What's new to
speake,
_what now to regi
ster,
1610That may expre
sse my loue,
_or thy deare merit ?
¶Nothing
sweet boy,
_but yet like prayers diuine,
G 3