Seccombe and Arber, comps. Elizabethan Sonnets. 1904.
Astrophel and StellaLIX. Dear! why make you more of a dog, than me?
Sir Philip Sidney (1554–1586)D
If he do love; I burn, I burn in love!
If he wait well; I never thence would move!
If he be fair; yet but a dog can be.
Little he is, so little worth is he.
He barks; my songs, thine own voice oft doth prove.
Bidden perhaps, he fetcheth thee a glove;
But I unbid, fetch even my soul to thee!
Yet while I languish; him, that bosom clips,
That lap doth lap, nay, lets in spite of spite,
This sour-breathed mate taste of those sugared lips.
Alas, if you grant only such delight
To witless things; then L
Becomes a clog) will soon ease me of it.