_These Sonnets following were written by the Author (who giveth himself this feigned name of PHILOPARTHEN as his accidental attribute), at divers times, and upon divers occasions; and therefore in the form and matter they differ, and sometimes are quite contrary one to another: which ought not to be misliked, considering the very nature and quality of Love; which is a Passion full of variety, and contrariety in itself._ I. [Sidenote: _Ut vidi, ut perii, ut me malus abstulit error._] [Illustration] Unhappy Eyes! that first my heart betrayed, Had you not seen, my grief had not been such! And yet, how may I, justly, you upbraid! Since what I saw delighted me so much? But hence, alas, proceedeth all my smart: Unhappy Eyes! that first betrayed my heart! II. To seek adventures, as Fate hath assigned, My slender Bark now floats upon the main; Each troubled thought, an Oar; each sigh, a Wind, Whose often puffs have rent my Sails in twain. LOVE steers the Boat, which (for that sight, he lacks) Is still in danger of ten thousand wracks. III. What sudden chance hath changed my wonted cheer, Which makes me other than I seem to be? My days of joy, that once were bright and clear, Are turned to nights! my mirth, to misery! Ah, well I ween that somewhat is amiss; But, sooth to say, I know not what it is! IV. What, am I dead? Then could I feel no smart! But still in me the sense of grief reviveth. Am I alive? Ah, no! I have no heart; For she that hath it, me of life depriveth. O that she would restore my heart again; Or give me hers, to countervail my pain! V. If it be Love, to waste long hours in grief; If it be Love, to wish, and not obtain; If it be Love, to pine without relief; If it be Love, to hope and never gain; Then may you think that he hath truly loved, Who, for your sake! all this and more, hath proved! VI. If that, in ought, mine eyes have done amiss; Let them receive deserved punishment! For so the perfect rule of Justice is, Each for his own deeds, should be praised, or shent. Then, doubtless, is it both 'gainst Law and Sense, My Heart should suffer for mine Eyes' offence. VII. I am not sick, and yet I am not sound; I eat and sleep, and yet, methinks, I thrive not. I sport and laugh, and yet my griefs abound; I am not dead, and yet, methinks, I live not. "What uncouth cause hath these strange passions bred, To make at once, sick, sound, alive, and dead?" VIII.