Alas, so all things now do hold their peace, Heaven and earth disturbèd in no thing; The beasts, the air, the birds their song do cease; The nightes car the stars about doth bring. Calm is the sea, the waves work less and less. So am not I, whom love, alas, doth wring, Bringing before my face the great increase Of my desires, whereat I weep and sing In joy and woe, as in a doubtful ease. For my sweet thoughts sometime do pleasure bring, But by and by the cause of my disease Gives me a pang that inwardly doth sting, When that I think what grief it is again To live and lack the thing should rid my pain.
Sonnet 8 [Set me where as the sun doth parch the green]
Set me where as the sun doth parch the green, Or where his beams do not dissolve the ice; In temperate heat where he is felt and seen; With proud people, in presence sad and wise; Set me in base, or yet in high degree, In the long night, or in the shortest day, In clear weather, or where mists thickest be, In lost youth, or when my hairs be grey; Set me in earth, in heaven, or yet in hell, In hill, in dale, or in the foaming flood; Thrall, or at large, alive where so I dwell, Sick, or in health, in ill fame or good: Yours will I be, and with that only thought Comfort myself when that my hope is nought.