_Stella_ since thou so right a Princesse art Of all the Powers which life bestowe on me, That ere by them ought undertaken be, They first resort unto that soveraigne part; Sweete for a time give respite to my heart, Which pants as though it still should leape to thee: And on my thought give the Lieuetenancie To this great cause, which needes both wit and Art, And as a Queene who from her presence sends Whom shee emploies, dismisse from thee my wit, Still to have wrought that thy owne will attends, For servants shame of Maisters blame doth fit. O let not Fooles in me thy works approve, And scorning say, see what it is to love. When sorrow (using my owne Siers might) Melts downe his lead into my boyling brest, Through that darke Furnace of my heart opprest, There shines a joy from thee my onely light: But soone as thought of thee breeds my delight, And my young soule once flutters to her nest, Most dead dispaire my daily unbidden guest Clips strait my wings, strait wraps me in his night, And makes me then bow downe my head and say, Ah what doth _Phœbus_ gold that wretch availe, Whom Iron darts doth keepe from use of daie, So strangely (alas) thy workes on me prevaile, That in my woes for thee, thou art my joy; And in my joyes for thee, my onel’ anoy. [Illustration] _Other Sonnets of variable verse._ _First Sonnet._ Doubt you to whom my Muse these notes intendeth, Which now my brest surchargd with musick lendeth? To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Onely in _you_ my song begins and endeth. _2_ Who hath the eyes which marrie state with pleasure, Who keepes the key of Natures chiefest treasure: To _you_, to _you_, all song of praise be due, Onely for _you_ the heavens forget all measure. _3_ Who hath the lips where wit with fairenes raigneth, Who womenkinde at once both decks and staineth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Onely by _you_ _Cupid_ his crowne maintaineth. _4_ Who hath the feet whose steps all sweetnes planteth, Who els for whom Fame worthie trumpets wanteth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise be due, Onely to _you_ her scepter _Venus_ granteth. _5_ Who hath the brest whose milk doth patience nourish, Whose grace is such, that when it chides doth cherish: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise be due, Onely through _you_ the tree of life doth floorish. _6_ Who hath the hand which without stroke subdueth Who long hid beautie with encrease renueth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise is due, Only at _you_ all envie hopelesse endeth. _7_ Who hath the haire which most loose most fast tieth, Who makes a man live then glad when he dieth: To _you_, to _you_ all song of praise be due, Onely of _you_ the flatterer never lieth.