Ten Sonets to Philomel: Another of her sicknesse and recovery

Pale Death himselfe did loue my Philomell,
When he her vertues and rare beauty saw,
Therefore he sicknesse sent: which should expell
His riuals life, and my deare to him draw.
But her bright beauty dazled so his eyes,
That his dart life did misse, though her it hit:
Yet not therewith content, new meanes he tries,
To bring her vnto Death, and make life flit.
But Nature soone perceiuing, that he meant
To spoyle her onely Phoenix, her chiefe pride,
Assembled all her force, and did preuent
The greatest mischiefe that could her betide.
So both our liues and loues, Nature defended:
For had she di'de, my loue and life had ended.