Caelica, Sonnet LXXVI

FOrtune, art thou not forc'd sometimes to scorne?
That seest Ambition striue to change our state?
As though thy Scepter slaue to lust were borne?
Or Wishes could procure themselues a fate?

I, when I haue shot one shaft at my mother,
That her desires a-foote thinke all her owne,
Then straight draw vp my bow to strike another,
For Gods are best by discontentment knowne.

And when I see the poore forsaken sp'rit,
Like sicke men, whom the Doctor saith must dye,
Sometime with rage and strength of passion fight,
Then languishing enquire what life might buy:
I smile to see Desire is neuer wise,
But warres with Change, which is her paradise.