Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 81

THe Romaines, in their Temples, plac'd, of olde,
Neere to the Graces, well-Tongu'd Mercury;
To note that Speeche in vtt'ring will catch cold,
That lights not on a gracious Eare, and Eye:
So, though my Tongue were most Angelicall,
And, could make Eares to heare of Stone, or Wood,
Yet, if your Eares turne Hony into Gall,
As good no Speech, as speaking for no good.
Bee not (deere Sweete) ô bee not so peruerse,
Your Eares are fleshe, and so your Hart should bee:
Then, stone them not, to Coole my charming Verse,
That seekes to turne your Eares, and Hart to mee:
But, by that Turne, if you do feare a fall,
Ile hold you vp, or breake my Neck withall.