Sonnet 39

DEare Wood, and you sweet solitary Place,
Where I estranged from the vulgar live,
Contented more with what your shades me give,
Than if I had what Thetis doth embrace:
What snaky Eye grown jealous of my pace,
Now from your silent Horrours would me drive?
When Sun advancing in his glorious race
Beyond the Twins, doth neare our Pole arrive.
What sweet delight a quiet life affords,
And what it is to be from bondage free,
Far from the madding Worldlings hoarse discords,
Sweet flowry place I first did learne of thee:
Ah if I were mine owne, your deare resorts
I would not change with Princes stateliest Courts.