[The Sonnets numbered II to VIII in this Decade are by Sidney, and were printed among the _Certaine Sonets_ in the 1598 edition of the _Arcadia_.] IX Woe to mine eyes, the organs of mine ill; Hate to my heart, for not concealing joy; A double curse upon my tongue be still, Whose babbling lost what else I might enjoy! When first mine eyes did with thy beauty joy, They to my heart thy wondrous virtues told; Who, fearing lest thy beams should him destroy, Whate'er he knew, did to my tongue unfold. My tell-tale tongue, in talking over bold, What they in private council did declare, To thee, in plain and public terms unrolled; And so by that made thee more coyer far. What in thy praise he spoke, that didst thou trust; And yet my sorrows thou dost hold unjust. X Of an Athenian young man have I read, Who on blind fortune's picture doated so, That when he could not buy it to his bed, On it he gazing died for very woe. My fortune's picture art thou, flinty dame, That settest golden apples to my sight; But wilt by no means let me taste the same. To drown in sight of land is double spite. Of fortune as thou learn'dst to be unkind, So learn to be unconstant to disdain. The wittiest women are to sport inclined. Honour is pride, and pride is nought but pain. Let others boast of choosing for the best; 'Tis substances not names must make us blest. THE FOURTH DECADE I _Of the end and death of his love_ Needs must I leave and yet needs must I love; In vain my wit doth tell in verse my woe; Despair in me, disdain in thee, doth show How by my wit I do my folly prove. All this my heart from love can never move. Love is not in my heart. No, Lady, no, My heart is love itself. Till I forego My heart I never can my love remove. How can I then leave love? I do intend Not to crave grace, but yet to wish it still; Not to praise thee, but beauty to commend; And so, by beauty's praise, praise thee I will; For as my heart is love, love not in me, So beauty thou, beauty is not in thee. II _Of the prowess of his lady_ Sweet sovereign, since so many minds remain Obedient subjects at thy beauty's call, So many hearts bound in thy hairs as thrall, So many eyes die with one look's disdain, Go, seek the honour that doth thee pertain, That the Fifth Monarchy may thee befall! Thou hast such means to conquer men withal, As all the world must yield or else be slain. To fight, thou need'st no weapons but thine eyes, Thine hair hath gold enough to pay thy men, And for their food thy beauty will suffice; For men and armour, Lady, care have none; For one will sooner yield unto thee then When he shall meet thee naked all alone. III