Sonnet XXII: I might have dyed, before my lyfe

I might have dyed, before my lyfe begunne,
When as my father for his countries good,
The Persians favour and the Sophy wonne:
But yet with daunger, of his dearest blood.
Thy father (sweet) whome daunger did beset,
Escaped all, and for no other end:
But onely this, that you he might beget:
Whom heavens decreed, into the world to send.
Then father, thanke thy daughter for thy lvfe,
And Neptune praise, that yeelded so to thee,
To calme the tempest, when the stonnes were ryfe,
And that thy daughter should a Venus be.
I call thee Vee (sweet) but be not wroth,
Thou art more chast, yet seas did favour both.