Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 58

ITs easie to blaspheame the name of Loue,
And say its but the worke of Idlenesse:
The Slipps of Fancie, which oft mortall proue,
The Mothe of Strength, and strength of Foolishnesse:
These, and such like, or els farre woorse then these,
Might Hate disgorge gainst Loues Diuinitie:
And with such Yells Dispaire hir Soule might ease,
Whose sweetest ease is bitt'erst Blasphemie:
But I, that know the powre of Loue too well,
To well do worde him to bee vs'd so ill:
For, hee hath dam'd me to his lowest Hell
Where Hee torments my Reason, Witt, and Will:
But, Reason, Witt, and Will in humble wise
Do pray for him, and wishe he had his Eyes.