Diana: Manuscript Sonnet 3

Lady of ladies, the delight alone
For which to heaven earth doth no envy bear;
Seeing and hearing thee, we see and hear
Such voice, such light, as never sung nor shone.
The want of heaven I grant yet we may moan,
Not for the pleasure of the angels there,
As though in face or voice they like thee were,
But that they many be, and thou but one.
The basest notes which from thy voice proceed,
The treble of the angels do exceed,
So that I fear their choir to beautify,
Lest thou to some in heaven shall sing and shine.
Lo, when I hear thee sing, the reason why
Sighs of my breast keep time with notes of thine!