SONNET LXXIV

IN the window of a graunge, Whence men's prospects cannot range Ouer groues and flowers growing: Nature's wealth, and pleasure showing; But on graues where shepheards lye, That by loue or sicknesse die; In that window saw I sit, Caelica, adorning it; Sadly clad for Sorrowe's glory, Making ioy glad to be sorie: Shewing Sorrow in such fashion, As Truth seem'd in loue with Passion, Such a sweet enamell giueth Loue restrain'd, that constant liueth. Absence, that bred all this paine, Presence heal'd not straight againe; Eyes from darke to suddaine light, See not straight, nor can delight: Where the heart reuiues from death, Grones doe first send forth a breath: So, first looks did looks beget, One sigh did another set, Hearts within their breast did quake, While thoughts to each other spake. Philocell entrauncèd stood, Rackt and ioyed, with his good; His eyes on her eyes were fixèd Where both true Loue and Shame were mixed: In her eyes he Pittie saw, His Loue did to Pittie draw: But Loue found when it came there, Pitty was transform'd to Feare: Then he thought that in her face, He saw Loue, and promis'd Grace. Loue calls his loue to appeare: But as soone as it came neere, Her loue to her bosome fled, Vnder Honour's burthens dead. Honour in Loue's stead tooke place, To grace Shame, with Loue's disgrace; But like drops throwne on the fire, Shame's restraints enflam'd Desire: Desire looks, and in her eyes, The image of it selfe espies, Whence he takes Selfe-pittie's motions To be Cynthia's owne deuotions; And resolues Feare is a lyar, Thinking she bids speake Desire; But true loue that feares, and dare Offend it selfe with pleasing Care, So diuers wayes his heart doth moue, That his tongue cannot speake of loue. Onely in himselfe he sayes, How fatall are blind Cupid's waies!