Sonnet V: Love with her haire, my love by

Love with her haire, my love by force hath ty'd,
To serve her lippes, her eies, her voice, her hand,
I smil'd for joy, when I the boye espy'd,
To lie inchain'd, and live at her commaund.
She if she looke, or kisse, or sing, or smile,
Cupid withall, doth smile, doth sing, doth kisse,
Lippes, handes, voice, eies, all hearts that may beguile,
Bicause she scornes, all hearts but onlie this:
Venus for this in pride began to frowne:
That Cupid borne a god, inthrald should be:
She in disdaine, her prettie sonne threwe downe,
And in his place, with love she chained me.
So now (sweet love) though I my selfe be thrale,
Not her a goddesse, but thy selfe I call.