Caelica, Sonnet LXXXIV

FArewell sweet Boy, complaine not of my truth;
Thy Mother lou'd thee not with more deuotion;
For to thy Boyes play I gaue all my youth,
Yong Master, I did hope for your promotion.

While some sought Honours, Princes thoughts obseruing,
Many woo'd Fame, the child of paine and anguish,
Others iudg'd inward good a chiefe deseruing,
I in thy wanton Visions ioy'd to languish.

I bow'd not to thy image for succession,
Nor bound thy bow to shoot reformed kindnesse,
Thy playes of hope and feare were my confession,
The spectacles to my life was thy blindnesse:
But Cupid now farewell, I will goe play me,
With thoughts that please me lesse, & lesse betray me.