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- # SONNEYS.
## 130
MY Miftres eyes are nothing like the Sunne,
Currall is farre more red, then her lips red,
If snow be white why then her briefts are dun:
If haires be wiers, black wiers grow on her head:
I haue feene Rofes damaskt, red and white,
But no fuch Rofes fee I in her checkes,
And in fome perfumes is there more delight,
Then in the breath that from my Miftres reekes.
I loue to heare her fpeake, yet well I know,
That Muficke hath a farre more pleasing found:
I graunt I neuer faw a goddeffe goe,
My Miftres when thee walkes treads on the ground.
And yet by heauen I thinke my loue as rare,
As any fhe bch'd with falfe compare.
## 131
THou art as tiranous, fo as thou art,
As thofe whofe beauties proudly make them cruell;
For well thou know'ft to my deare doting hart
Thou art the fairest and most precious Jewell.
Yet in good faith fome fay that thee behold,
Thy face hath not the power to make loue grone;
To fay they erre, I dare not be fo bold,
Although I fweare it to my felfe alone.
And to be fure that is not falfe I fweare
A thousand grones but thinking on thy face,
One on anothers necke do witneffe beare
Thy blacke is fairest in my judgements place.
In nothing art thou blacke faue in thy deeds,
And thence this flaunder as I thinke proceeds.
## 132
THine eies I loue, and they as pittying me,
Knowing thy heart torment me with disdaine,
Haue put on black, and louing mourners bee,
Looking with pretty ruth vpon my pains.
And
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