Wittes Pilgrimage, Sonnet 89

DOwn, down proude Hart, to Loues Lures, stoop. ô stoop
She Lures, that loues, shee loues, that can alure;
Then, downe, ô downe, yet not so low as droupe;
Sith shee, beeing gracious, is as kinde, as sure!
Hir glancing Eye, through Loue, in, State is staid,
Which stands with constant grace, and Maiesty:
Both which, in, loue deserue to be obaide
By hatefull harts, that are as hard as hie:
Then melt, melt Hart, in hott affections flames,
If thou be not mroe hard then hardest Stones:
For, Harts, but of that temper, shee vnframes
In fire of Loue, and makes them tender ones:
Then (Sweet) sith now mine melts for loue of you.
Let it run into yours, to Mould it new.