XXIX. None dares now look more on my Laura’s face

Robert Tofte (1561–1620)

NONE dares now look more on my LAURA’s face,

So dangerous is her beauty to behold:

For he no sooner gives to her the gaze;

But straight his heart, She takes from him so bold.

Such virtue ’s locked within those ebon eyes;

Where, dallying with Delight, Dan CUPID lies.

So sweetly rolleth She that radiant sphere,

As She, from whom She lists, robs suddenly:

So as to look on her, each one doth fear;

And yet to look on her, spare will not I!

For though I lose my Heart, and him disease.

I like shall my Desire; and her I’ll please.