Sonnet 5

FAire is my Yoake, though grievous be my Paines,
Sweet are my Wounds, although they deeply smart,
My Bit is Gold, though shortened be the Reines,
My Bondage brave, though I may not depart,
Although I burne, the Fire which doth impart
Those Flames, so sweet reviving Force containes,
That like Arabia's Bird my wasted Heart
Made quick by Death, more lively still remaines.
I joy though oft my waking Eyes spend Teares,
I never want Delight, even when I grone,
Best companied when most I am alone,
A Heaven of Hopes I have midst Hells of Feares:
Thus every way Contentment strange I find,
But most in Her rare Beauty, my rare Mind.