_11_ _Stella_, in whose bodie is Writ the carecters of blis: Whose sweete face all beautie passeth, Save the minde which it surpasseth. _12_ Graunt, ô graunt, but speach (alas) Failes me, fearing on to passe: Graunt to me, what am I saying? But no sinne there is in praying. _13_ Graunt (ô Deare) on knees I pray (Knees on ground he then did stay) That not I, but since I prove you, Time and place from me nere move you. _14_ Never season was more fit, Never roome more apt for it: Smiling aire allowes my reason: These birds sing; now use the season. _15_ This small winde which so sweete is, See how it the leaves doth kis: Each tree in his best attyring, Sense of Love to Love inspiring. _16_ Love makes earth the water drinke, Love to earth makes water sinke: And if dumb things be so wittie, Shall a heavenly Grace want pittie? _17_ There his hands (in their speach) faine Would have made tongues language plaine: But her hands his hands compelling, Gave repulse, all grace expelling. _18_ Therewithall, away she went, Leaving him with passion rent, With what she had done and spoken, That therewith my song is broken. _The ninth Sonnet._ Goe my Flocke, goe get you hence, Seeke a better place of feeding, Where you may have some defence From the stormes in my breast bleeding, And showers from mine eyes proceeding. _2_ Leave a wretch in whom all woe, Can abide to keepe no measure; Merrie Flocke, such one forgoe Unto whom mirth is displeasure, Onely rich in measures treasure. _3_ Yet alas before you goe, Heare your wofull Masters storie, Which to stones I else would showe; Sorrow onely then hath glorie, When tis excellently sorie. _4_ _Stella_, fairest Shepheardesse, Fairest, but yet cruelst ever: _Stella_, whom the heavens still blesse, Though against me she persever, Though I blisse inherit never. _5_ _Stella_ hath refused mee, _Stella_, who more love hath proved In this caitiffe hart to bee, Than can in good to us be moved Towards Lambkins best beloved. _6_ _Stella_ hath refused mee _Astrophel_ that so well served. In this plesant Spring (Muse) see, While in pride flowers be preserved, Himselfe onely, winter starved. _7_ Why (alas) then doth she sweare That she loveth me so deerely; Seeing me so long to beare Coales of love that burne so cleerly: And yet leave me hopelesse meerly. _8_ Is that love? forsooth I trow. If I saw my good dogg grieved, And a helpe for him did know, My love should not be beleeved, But he were by me releeved. _9_ No, she hates me (welaway) Faining love, somewhat to please me, Knowing if she should display All hate, death soone would seaze me, And of hideous torments ease me.