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# 2018-2019
I Love make me forsworn, how frail I fwere to love?
O, never faith could hold, if not to beauty vowed:
Though to my felie forsworn, to thee lie confiant proue,
those thoghts to me like Okes, to thee like Ofters bowed.
Studdy his byas leases, and makes his booke thine eies,
where all those pleasures liue, that Art can comprehend:
It knowledge be the marke, to know thee fhall suffice:
Well learned is that toung that well can thee commend,
All ignorant that foule, that fees thee without wonder,
Which is to me fome prafe, that I thy parts admyte:
Thine eye louses lightning feems, thy voice his dreadfull
which (not to anger bent) is musick & sweet fire (thunder
Celefthall as thou art, O, do not loue that wrong:
To fing heauens prafe, with fuch an earthly toung.
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