Inuention of her beauty vaunt
When _Dorus_ sings his sweet Pamelas loue,
And tell the Gods, _Mars_ is predominant,
Seated with _Sol_, and weares Mineruas gloue:
And tell the world, that in the world there is
A heauen on earth, on earth no heauen but this.

FINIS.

[from the Edition of 1599]

Sonet 1

The worlds faire Rose, and _Henries_ frosty fire,
Iohns tyrannie; and chast _Matilda's_ wrong,
Th'inraged Queene, and furious _Mortimer_,
The scourge of Fraunce, and his chast loue I song;
Deposed _Richard_, _Isabell_ exil'd,
The gallant _Tudor_, and fayre _Katherine_,
Duke _Humfrey_, and old _Cobhams_ haplesse child,
Couragious _Pole_, and that braue spiritfull Queene;
_Edward_, and that delicious London Dame,
_Brandon_, and that rich dowager of Fraunce,
_Surrey_, with his fayre paragon of fame,
_Dudleys_ mishap, and vertuous _Grays_ mischance;
Their seuerall loues since I before haue showne,
Now giue me leaue at last to sing mine owne.

Sonet 2

_To the Reader of his Poems_

Into these loues who but for passion lookes,
At this first sight, here let him lay them by,
And seeke elsewhere in turning other bookes,
Which better may his labour satisfie.
No far-fetch'd sigh shall euer wound my brest,
Loue from mine eye, a teare shall neuer wring,
Nor in ah-mees my whyning Sonets drest,
(A Libertine) fantasticklie I sing;
My verse is the true image of my mind,
Euer in motion, still desiring change,
To choyce of all varietie inclin'd,
And in all humors sportiuely I range;
My actiue Muse is of the worlds right straine,
That cannot long one fashion entertaine.

Sonet 3

Many there be excelling in this kind,
Whose well trick'd rimes with all inuention swell,
Let each commend as best shall like his minde,
Some _Sidney_, _Constable_, some _Daniell_.
That thus theyr names familiarly I sing,
Let none think them disparaged to be,
Poore men with reuerence may speake of a King,
And so may these be spoken of by mee;
My wanton verse nere keepes one certaine stay,
But now, at hand; then, seekes inuention far,
And with each little motion runnes astray,
Wilde, madding, iocond, and irreguler;
Like me that lust, my honest merry rimes,
Nor care for Criticke, nor regard the times.

Sonet 5

My hart was s